
h 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 






UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.! 





I 



LETTERS 



TO 



THE CHILDREN". 



BY "UNCLE BOB," 

OF THE " WESTERN METHODlST^>-~ 

IV . M, 13 ' — 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY R. A. YOUNG, D.D. 



THIRD EDITION. 



g3 *-- 

Memphis : 

Publishing House of Boyle & Chapman, No. 279 Main Street 

1875. 







Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 

K. W. BLEW, Oo-'-C^ 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



TO 

HIS OWN DEAR CHILDREN, 
AND TO 

THE BOYS AND GIRLS EVERYWHERE, 

THESE LETTERS ARE DEDICATED BY 

THE A TJTHOR. 

(3) 



PREFACE. 



"T" HAVE aimed to write so as to profit those for 
whose benefit I have written. Profound rea- 
son, or regular connected thought, need not be 
looked for in these pages. I did not write for 
literary fame or the critic's eye. When the first 
letter was written, I thought it would be the last — 
had no idea that a book would be the result; but 
so it is. And now, with the sincere wish that some 
good may be done, I launch the little thing on the 
great literary sea, to take care of itself; hoping 
that the mighty crafts, as they pass, will give it 

a lift. 

The Author. 

(5) 



INTRODUCTION. 



/AUR "Uncle Bob" has been studying and writ- 
^-^ ing these Letters for months. He is a sensible 
and well-educated Christian gentleman, and has a 
large family of obedient and pious children. These 
Letters have all been published in the Western Meth- 
odist — have been extensively read, and are ex- 
tremely popular. " Let them be collected and issued 
in book-form," is the voice of the children and 
young people of the Church. 

There must be something in them worthy of 
consideration. Eeflect and study on what you 
read. All our elementary works on logic teach 
us that "attention is necessary to memory." A 
book that is not worth reading twice is scarcely 
worth reading once. 

There can be no apology for careless reading. 
But there are multitudes who are always reading, 
and who are never any the wiser for it. Indeed, 

(7) 



8 Introduction. 

their reading spoils instead of improving them. 
It makes them conceited, and fills their heads with 
visions and shadows. They have read so many 
books — perhaps whole libraries — and surely, think 
they, none are so wise as we. "I," says one of 
these dullards, "have read more than any forty of 
my neighbors, and certainly I must know more 
than forty times as much as they;" and yet he 
rarely has a definite idea of the subject treated a 
month after it has been laid by. 

The truth is, these stupid readers deserve to be 
served, occasionally, like old Dr. D wight served 
the student. One beautiful afternoon in the spring- 
time the Doctor and one of his students drove out 
into the country. They had not gone far before 
the Doctor tapped the youngster on the head with 
his cane. The young man, with evident signs of 
anger, turned and demanded the reason for such 
treatment. The good old man smiled graciously 
upon him, and, pointing to the magnificent land- 
scape around them, quietly replied: "I only wanted 
you to keep your eyes open." Your ingenuity, I 
suppose, makes the application. Keep your eyes 
open, children, while reading these Letters. 
" Books frequently form our character, and some- 
times fix our doom. Benjamin Franklin tells us, in 
one of his letters, that when he was a boy a little 



Introduction. 9 

book fell into his hands entitled, "Essays to do 
Good," by Cotton Mather. It was tattered and 
torn, and several leaves were missing. "But the 
remainder," he says, "gave me such a turn of 
thinking as to have an influence on my conduct 
through life; for I have always set a greater value 
on the character of a doer of good than any other 
kind of reputation; and if I have been a useful 
citizen, the public owes all the advantages of it to 
that little book" 

Jeremy Bentham mentions that the current of 
his thoughts and studies was directed for life by a 
single phrase that caught his eye at the end of a 
pamphlet — " The greatest good to the greatest number." 

There are single sentences in the New Testament 
that have awakened to spiritual life millions of 
dormant souls. 

In things of less moment books have a wondrous 
power. George Law, a boy on his father's farm, 
met an old unknown book, which told the story of 
a farmer's son who went away to seek his fortune, 
and came home after many years' absence a rich 
man. From that moment George became uneasy, 
left home, lived over again the life he had read of, 
returned a millionaire, and paid all his father's 
debts. 

Kobinson Crusoe has sent to the sea more sailors 
1* 



10 Introduction. 

than the press-gang. That story about little George 
Washington telling the truth concerning the hatchet 
and the fruit-tree has made many a truth -speaker. 

"We owe all the Waverley Novels to Walter Scott's 
early reading of the old traditions and legends, and 
the whole body of pastoral fiction has come from 
Addison's Sketches of Sir Roger de Coverley, in 
the Spectator. 

But illustrations are numberless. Tremble ye who 
read. One paragraph may quench, or kindle the 
celestial spark in the human soul. 

R. A. Young. 

Nashville, Tenn., April 4, 1874. 






CONTENTS. 



LETTER I. 

PAGB 

Time seems to fly — Streaks of gray here and there — 
Stirred up occasionally — Fine horses — The preachers 
— Plugging the melons — Preserves and cakes . .17 

LETTER II. 

Do n't feel like writing — Sticking to my word — George 
and 1 — Mr. Warfield — Those cakes — That whipping — 
Very clever after all 20 

LETTER III. 

I know she's smart — Her letter — Making character — 
Waiting on a sick mother — Gilt-edged — The things 
that pay best 24 

LETTER IV. 

Mind full — Will endeavor to make out — Intellect and 
information — A rainy daj^ — The doctor — The pine-fat 
pill — Whole pot of beans spoiled — Dead flies in the 
oni+mont — The trial — The sentence . . . .28- 

(11) 



12 Contents. 

LETTER V. 

PAG* 

The Western Methodist — A No. 1 Editor — Distinguished 
men — A few letters — Hickory-nuts — The smutty end 
of the poker _ . . . .33 

LET TEE VI. 

Johnny Constant — Billy Eeglar — A peace-man — Snug — 
The broken jug — An awful fix — I was in tears . . 37 

LETTER VII. 

Louisville — Gait House — The Mission Sabbath -school — 
Forgot to look up — A speech — The little preacher . 44 

LETTER VIII. 

Horror of gray hair — Cheating nature — Painting and 
powdering — The golden age — The child dies in less 
than an hour — We are monarch of all we survey . . 51 

LETTER IX. 

A oig cat — An old hen — Selling the calves — My grief — 
Snug's sickness — Conscience at work — While folks are 
alive, the time to treat them respectfully — Snug dies . 55 

LETTER X. 

Little Eena on crutches — " Cater Pillar " — Up the wrong 
tree — A little girl that knows the commandments by 
heart — Not going to die now 63 

LETTER XL 

Walk up and pitch in — That word "can't" — Yellow- 
backed novels — Book-sellers responsible — Self-help — 
Dr. Livingstone 68 



Contents. 1$ 

LETTER XII. 



PAG* 



Another Uncle Bob — The sermon — Leaving her religion 
at a boarding-school — Education without religion dan- 
gerous — Converted before they were twelve years old . 73= 

LETTER XIII. 

Mistaken in his man — Pippin apples — The old saddle- 
bags — The break of day — Who the preacher was — 
Legh Richmond 78 

LETTER XIY. 

The standing collar — The miller — How I got on the right 
side of him — The split top — The kite season — Mary 
Jane — Going to church — The council of war — Come 
out of those sideboards 83 



LETTER XV. 

Flashing and sizzin' — A million dollars — The phlebotom- 
ists — A bee-line — No excuse . . . . - . .89 



LETTER XVI. 

Death of Charlie Baird — His letter — More little graves 
than large — "God moves in a mysterious way " . .93 

LETTER XVII. 

Getting into trouble — Tattlers — Got a thrashing — The 
Jones boys — Jeremiah Snodgrass — Fat hogs — Adolphus 
Crookshanks 98 

LETTER XVIII. 

Waiting for something to turn up — "Greenleaf's Gram- 
mar" — The twenty-dollar gold-piece — I was induced to 
hang on 103 



14 Contents. 

LETTER XIX. 

PAGE 

A fine dog — His master — Accused of stealing — How the 
matter was settled — Going in the back way — Here's 
to you 109 

LETTER XX. 

The new baby — Keeping them back — "Splendid glad" — 
Taking a peep — Order No. 1 — Importance of little 
things 114 

LETTER XXI. 

The prodigal son — Father and mother know best — The 
naval officer — "Do your duty, sir" — Rifle in hand — 
" Jump overboard, or I will shoot " .... 120 

LETTER XXII. 

The house I was born in — "The old sweet-heart" — Cats 
after the milk — Murder will out ... . 125 

LETTER XXIII. 

A faithful recorder — Can't bribe him — Twenty lashes — 
Failed to keep count — Scattering things every which 
way 129 

LETTER XX IV. 

One more time — Home the best place to find out what 
one is — " I'll stop after awhile" — Habits — Cherry and 
Chibby — Spilled milk — Adieu for a season . . .135 

LETTER XXY. 

Still alive — Christmas-tree — Old Santa Claus — Finding 
his pile, etc 141 



Contents. 15 

LETTER XXVI. 

PAGB 

P's and Q's — New Year — Popping crackers — Little drops 
of water — My little Conference acquaintances — That 
ghost . .146 

LETTER XXVII. 

The judgment — Holding out faithful — Exercise — The 
blacksmith's arm — My German teacher — Slang, etc. . 151 

LETTER XXVIII. 

About midnight — The sleet — In the morning — Trees 
bent down — A beautiful sight — Theophilus . . . 156 

LETTER XXIX. 

Heading Rollin's History — Cyrus the Great — Making her 
debut — The sovereign of the world — Alexander's sisters 
make their brother's clothes — Reading yellow-backs . 159 

LETTER XXX. 

Traveling around — Keeping your eyes open — Ask your 
mother to help you — That "barefooted cart" — Mr. 
Shackleford — The raid on the egg-box . . " . . 164 

LETTER XXXI. 

Different kinds of scrapes — Less than fifty years — Learn- 
ing to chew tobacco — Got sick — Banquo's ghost — Cast- 
ing out the burden of my complaint — Cherry pone — 
The French . . 170 

LETTER XXXII. 

Reading the New Testament together — Bishop Paine's 
explanation — John and William — Mushroom develop- 
ment 176 



16 Contents. 

LETTER XXXII],. 

People ought to be as good as their word— That lawyer 
— Altering the case — Scrub -oaks — Not doing as you 
would be done by — Talking about others — Being 
polite 180 

LETTER XXX I Y. 

The midshipman's request — Egypt — The Great Desert — 
Joseph — Pharaoh — Moses — Fine linen — King Amasis 
— Splitting stone — The Great Pyramid . . . .184 

LETTER XXXY. 

Deception — "Working through — Going to protest — Follow- 
ing bad counsel — Miss Gaudaloupe — The circus — That 
whale — The theater — The dancing-school — The fish- 
erman — The wreck 191 

LETTER XXXYI. 

The rheumatism — All hands taking two jumps — "Who 
beat — A great laugh — A complete cure . . . .199 

LETTER XXXVII. 

Didn't want to go to school — Long division — Couldn't 
see through it — Got the better of it — Ehubarb and 
jalap — Sick sure enough 202 

LETTER XXXVIII. 

Pride — Tight lacing — Shoes a mile too big — The doctor 
sent for — The pint bottle — Beef-gall — Going to Florida 
— She dies — The obituary notice 207 



LETTERS TO THE CHILDREN. 



LETTER I 



Time seems to fly — Streaks of gray here and there — Stirred 
up occasionally — Fine horses — The preachers — Plugging 
the melons — Preserves and cakes. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I was born in Maryland, 
not far from the capital of the United States, 
abont thirty-five years ago. That sounds like a 
long time, bnt to me it now seems very short. I 
can remember well when I thought that from one 
Christmas to another was almost an age ; but since 
I became a man, and assumed the relations of hus- 
band and father, the time seems to fly. I*can see 
the streaks of gray here and there in my hair, and 
some decided lines about my face, reminding me 
that I am undergoing a change, gradual, but certain. 
When I was a boy I went to school part of the 
time and worked part of the time, although I was 
never very industrious. I had to be stirred up oc- 
casionally — I need not tell you how, because you 
will doubtless anticipate me, and you know there is 

(17) 



18 Letters to the Children. 

little use in folks writing what everybody knows, 
although there is much of that sort in newspapers 
and books nowadays. 

My father was a Methodist preacher, and our 
house used to be head-quarters for the preachers. I 
used to love to see them come for various reasons — 
the chief, I believe, was because they used to take 
so much notice of us children, much more than I 
believe is taken of children by the preachers in these 
days, owing, perhaps, to the fact that now the boys 
and girls get grown so quick — put on the man and 
woman so soon — I believe you call it "Young 
America." Another reason was, they always rode 
fine horses and had good saddles. Some of them 
had also a great big sheep-skin, with the wool on it. 
How I used to enjoy it when I got a chance at one 
of those ! Another reason was, mother always had 
something extra to eat when they came about. The 
old preserve jar and the old jam jar came out from 
their hiding-place. I believe that is the case now 
with a good many people, and I suppose there are 
a great many boys who feel just like I used to feel, 
and for the same reasons. I would not take a great 
deal for my experience, though I have had a great 
deal that I do not want any more of. I believe the 
preserves ought to be taken out oftener, when no 
company is expected, than they are in many places. 
Home ought to be made the most pleasant place in 
the world to children; and I have learned that 
cakes, preserves, etc., help to make children happy. 
Do n't you think so ? 

^Father used to be a great hand to raise water- 



• Letters to the Children. 19 

melons and nutmeg melons. I used to be a great 
hand to go into the patch, plug 'em before they were 
ripe, and then turn the cut side down. Sometimes, 
though not often, I was the first to call attention to 
the outrage and condemn it. That was to conceal 
my own guilt. But I never could succeed in that 
line — my actions and countenance always betrayed 
me. I came to the conclusion that honesty was the 
best policy, and quit that way of doing. I soon 
found that every thing worked better. I could go 
before father and mother with my head up and with 
confidence; and whenever accidentally I got into 
trouble, if I made a candid statement I always found 
all the relief I needed. That will be the case, boys, 
nine times out of ten, with all of you. Scorn to do 
a mean act — never tell a lie — suffer first. If sinners 
entice you, and you consent and do wrong, make a 
frank acknowledgment, and resolve to do so no 
more. Tell it to father and mother. They know 
how to appreciate your trials, and will not upbraid 
you, but will admire the man that is in you, and 
will be much more ready to forgive than you are to 
ask forgiveness. You have no idea what thrills of 
pleasure rush through a father's heart when, trem- 
blingly, his little son says: "I did it, papa." 

" Hear counsel and receive instruction, that thou mayest be wise 
in thy latter end." 



20 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER II. 

Don't feel like writing — Sticking to my word — George and I 
— Mr. Warfield — Those cakes — That whipping — Very clever 
after all. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— You may have noticed 
that my letter of last week was marked ~No. l y 
which meant there are more to come. I have wished 
several times since that I had not done that, for the 
reason I don't feel at all like writing this week. 
But I am a great hand to stick to my word. I do 
not think a man, woman, boy, or girl amounts to 
much who does n't have a high sense of honor. Now, 
I want you to understand distinctly that fulfilling 
engagements — doing what you promise — is the prin- 
cipal concomitant of honor. Now, just see, I used 
that great big word, concomitant, but as I -have 
done so I will let it stand, as doubtless many of my 
bright little readers will know what it means. 

One object I have in view in writing these letters 
is to make you think some. A word occasionally 
thrown in which you may have to study a little over, 
or ask pa or ma the meaning of, may be of service 
to you. I will not do that much, however, but I 
will thank any boy or girl who will write me a few 
lines and give me the meaning of that word. You 



Letters to the Children. 21 

can direct your letter to me at the Western Methodist 
office, as I am there often and will get it. 

Last week I introduced myself. I want to tell 
you this time of a little incident, or two, rather, 

that happened to me and one George M , when 

we were going to the little old school-house in sight 
of my father's. It was one rainy day, and nobody 
came but the teacher, George, and myself. The 
old gentleman (Mr. Warfield was his name) chanced 
to be in a most excellent humor. George and I 
oould n't exactly understand it, because as a general 
thing he was what might be called crabbed. He 
was bald-headed, had big eyes, and wore spectacles. 
He believed strongly in the oil of hickory, and kept 
a long old specimen standing behind him in the cor- 
ner. Now, are you surprised that, under all these 
circumstances, we often felt ticklish? "Well, all 
that aside. Now for the facts. We had a tolerably 
good lesson, and Mr. Warfield got through with us 
.about twelve o'clock, and told us we could go home 
for the day. This delighted us, you know. As we 
were about to depart, the old man lifted the fall of 
his well-worn desk and hauled out a couple of gin- 
ger-cakes, about the size of a saucer, and gave us 
one each. How we did scrape and bow, and then 
how we did eat and talk, as we trudged toward 
home ! It has been a good many years, but I can 
well remember the conversation. It was something 
like this : 

George. Willie (I was Willie), aint Mr. Warfield 
a nice man? 

Willie. You are right, George ; there are not 



22 Letters to the Children. 

many men that would have given us these cakes ? 
would they? 

George. ISTo ; they may all say what they please ? 
Willie, but to tell you the truth, I always did like 
Mr. Warfield. It is true he whips us sometimes,, 
but then it don't hurt long, does it? 

I said n-o, with a mental reservation. "We lived 
near each other, but George a little farther off than 
I. "When we got to our house George bid me good- 
bye in the best of humor, just like all the boys and 
girls ought always to do, and started for his home 
with a " hurrah for Mr. Warfield." 

The next time we went to school a change oc- 
curred — a remarkable change — we both got whipped. 
We had another conversation that day. I want you 
to put the two together and mark the difference. 
I think you will then be able more clearly to appre- 
ciate the old saying, " Circumstances alter cases." 

George. Do n't you think it was mean in him to> 
whip us for that little thing ? 

Willie. Yes, I do. I expect he is taking pay for 
his old cakes. 

George. I wish we hadn't taken them — they were 
old, dry things anyhow; and besides, they don't cost 
but a cent apiece. 

George and I came to the conclusion that it was 
a bad omen to be treated kindly and to accept pres- 
ents from our teacher; and when we saw him treat- 
ing a boy with special kindness we used to say: 
" $~ever mind, you will get that old hickory to-mor- 
row." 

But to tell you the truth, children, we were very 






Letters to the Children. 23 

naughty sometimes, and often needed to be cor- 
rected. Children should learn early to respect their 
teachers, and render them strict obedience. Show 
me a boy or girl who is disobedient to parents and 
teachers, plays truant, and wants always his or her 
own way, and I can form a pretty correct estimate 
of what their future will be. They are likely to 
become blots on society. 

One thing now, before I close this letter. I said 
in the outset that I did not feel a bit like writing. 
I told the truth. But now I am convinced that I 
did right to write, though I did not feel like it. 
This reminds me to admonish you of one very im- 
portant feature regarding the duties of life. You 
will find that many times, when you " do n't feel 
like it," there are duties to perform, and unless you 
press forward and discharge them irrespective of 
feeling, it will sadly derange that perfection of phy- 
sical, intellectual, moral, and religious development 
which is attainable. Whatever, therefore, is your 
duty to do — and any thing that the law of God re- 
quires, through father, and mother, and teachers,, 
becomes such — do it at once, and do it well ; and 
my word for it, if you do not occupy the first places 
in the land it will not be because you are not fit for 
them. 

" Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; but a woman that fearetb 
the Lord, she shall be praised." 



24 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER III. 

I know she's smart — Her letter — Making character — Waiting 
on a sick mother — Gilt-edged — The things that pay best. 



~n 



EAR CHILDREN:— Another week has rolled 
-L^ round, and I am under obligations to write an- 
other letter. Since the last one was written I have 
received a nice little communication from an intel- 
ligent girl, eleven years old, telling me the meaning 
of that big word, " concomitant." I know she is 
smart by the style of writing and manner of ex- 
pression. However, I will publish her letter just 
here, and let you be the judge yourself. If any of 
you think you can beat it, I would like for you to 
try: 

Dear Uncle Bob: — We take the Western Methodist at our 
house. I read your two letters in that paper, and was very 
much interested in them. I hope you will continue to write. 
I thought I would comply with your wishes, and tell you the 
meaning of that "big word, concomitant." It means to go 
along with, accompany — for example: truthfulness accompa- 
nies honor. 

You have no idea how much I prize that letter, 
and how glad I am that I have contributed to the 
gratification and interest of one child. I feel am- 



Letters to the Children. 25 

ply paid. You remember that last week I felt stupid, 
and did not want to write. Suppose I had given 
way to that feeling ! I never would have received 
that little girl's letter, and she would not have 
learned what she did, at least so soon. This will do 
to think about. 

Another thought: Each one of you who may 
read these lines has been making character since 
last week, either good or bad. I want you to pause 
after reading this declaration, and ask yourself the 
question : What kind of character have I been form- 
ing? If you are at a loss to decide the case your- 
self, ask your mother — she can tell you. 

Now, I want to suppose a few things, which, if 
you have done, you have been making bad charac- 
ter. First, then, if you frowned and cried when 
your father told you to chop some wood, or to take 
the old gray, sorrel, bay, or black horse to water ; 
or if you replied to him that you always had the 
most to do, and you wonder why John or Henry 
couldn't do it ; or if you spoke cross to your mother, 
and told her you wouldn't, when she asked you so 
kindly to bring a bucket of water; or if you got 
angry and left her presence all in a pout, then stood 
at the corner of the house, or behind the chimney, 
and said naughty words, and wished you were a lit- 
tle bigger, so that you might run away ; if you ate 
the apple mother left on the mantel, if you hooked 
the sugar, or broke the window, and when the in- 
quiry was made who did it, you vowed and declared 
that it wasn't you; if you have been cruel to any 
of the dumb animals that cannot complain or tell 
2 



26 Letters to the Children. 

on you ; if you have neglected to render gratitude 
to God, or, in other words, to say your prayers, you 
have undoubtedly, by these things, made broad and 
ugly lines of bad character. 

Now, let me suppose a few other things, which, 
if you have done, you have been making good char- 
acter. If you have been obedient, ever ready to 
give mother all the assistance in your' power — and 
you do not know how it lightens her toil to think 
she has a little son or daughter to help her; if 
mother was sick, and little Mary sat at the head of 
the table, and graced it like a little lady; if father 
was sick, and John rolled up his pants, buttoned his 
coat, tied his comfort about his neck, and went out 
in the storm to feed the cows and hogs, locked the 
corn-crib, and then came in with his face all aglow 
with smiles, ready for other commands ; if any thing 
was wanted it was asked for, and not taken unless 
permission was given; if you have been willing 
that your pa and ma should decide as to cases in- 
volving propriety, and then cheerfully submitted to 
their judgment; if you have made efforts to im- 
prove your mind, your manners, your tastes, you 
have, in these things, made good character. Yes, 
you have been making what I would call " gilt- 
edged." 

I see a great many boys and girls in my travels, 
and sometimes I meet some of the "gilt-edged" 
kind. I am drawn toward them at once. It is no 
trouble for me to love them. I delight in them, and 
often say, when I meet them, how I would like to 
see the world filled with that kind. It requires a 



Letters to the Children. 2T 

great effort on my part to love a bad child, and I 
know other people are just like me in this respect.- 
I have heard them say it. So if you want to be no- 
ticed and loved specially, you must be good and po- 
lite. You will find that those two things — good- 
ness and politeness — will go farther and last longer r 
and pay better, than any thing. 

"In the way of righteousness is life; and in the pathway thereof 
there is no death." 



28 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER IV. 

Mind full — Will endeavor to make out — Intellect and inform- 
ation — A rainy day — The doctor — The pine-fat pill — Whole 
pot of beans spoiled — Dead flies in the ointment — The trial 
— The sentence. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— I hardly know where to 
begin to write this week. My mind is so full 
of things I want to tell you, that it seems all jum- 
bled up. However, I will endeavor to make it out 
somehow. 

Last week I inserted in my letter a note I had re- 
ceived from a little girl, giving the meaning of that 
big word, " concomitant." Since then I have re- 
ceived another note from Fulton, Ky. The writer 
does not give her age, but I feel sure she is much 
older than the other. You will perhaps say: "I 
wonder how he knows." "Well, I'll tell you. Some 
things are so brilliant in themselves that they shine 
through every thing with which they come .in con- 
tact — two of which are intellect and information. 
This little letter contains both in a high degree. 
Read it and see : 

Dear Uncle Bob: — That word "concomitant" is a pretty big 
word for a little girl to analyze, but I will try it. I presume 
you only want some of the little ones to tell you what they 



Letters to the Children. 2&- 

think it "means in the sense you use it. Then, dear uncle, in 
this place I think it means that your desires, your thoughts, 
and your purposes to do right, or something good, kind, and 
useful to others, and to associate many sweet and instructive- 
thoughts, words, and wishes with what you say, and that you 
will be certain to say them at the time and in the manner you 
promise, would be some of the concomitant or united and 
closely associated ideas and objects of any thing about which 
you speak or do that is good and honorable. If this is not your 
meaning in that particular place by "concomitant," please, 
dear uncle, explain what it is to your little niece, Jessie. 

The writer has made a fine analysis indeed. The 
scope she has given to its meaning is much more 
extensive than I intended it to be in the connection 
in which I nsed it. Are you not surprised to know 
that one word conveys so much? A word: how 
rich it is often ! I have read many a time in a very 
old hook something like this in regard to a word — 
Fitly spoken. "A word fitly spoken is like apples 
of gold in pictures of silver." 

I was riding on the cars the other day, and as we 
went staving along I got to thinking over the time 
when I was a boy about your size. We children 
used to be put to ourselves, sometimes, when it 
rained, in a little room away down at the far end of 
the house. I remember once when something like 
half a dozen of us were put up to keep us out of 
the wet, and out of mischief, The scheme was suc- 
cessful as far as the wet was concerned, but you will 
perceive before I finish that we got into mischief — 
yes, we played the mischief. 

"We concluded to organize a hospital. My oldest 
sister was the doctor, the rest of us were patients — 



.30 Letters to the Children. 

sick folks. After we sick ones were all arranged 
on our pallets, the doctor began operations. There 
was a slow fire in the chimney-place, made in part 
*of green pine. Over this fire hung a large pot of 
beans cooking for dinner. As the pine-wood got 
warmer, from the ends oozed a sap that you hoys 
call "fat," property rosin. Out of said fat the doc- 
tor made pills about the size of the end of your lit- 
tle finger, and after feeling of our pulse and look- 
ing at our tongues, gave orders that we should take 
one every so many hours. When the doctor re- 
turned, all of us were considerably improved, and 
did not need any more medicine. So we got up, 
and in company with the doctor took our seats 
around the fire. While sitting there the doctor 
dropped one of the pills in the pot of beans. We 
did not know then how to appreciate the impor- 
tance of little things — specially bad little things — 
and so left the pine-fat pill in the pot. It perme- 
ated (there ! I have used another big word) the 
whole mess. Every thing moved on as pleasantly as 
you please until dinner-time. Everybody was hun- 
gry, and anticipated great satisfaction eating beans. 
Father was particularly fond of them. Mother 
helped him pretty largely, knowing both his will- 
ingness and capacity. Imagine, if you can, the ex- 
clamation of surprise when the first mouthful was 
taken! "Mother,'* said he (he always called his 
wife mother), "what is the matter with these beans 
to-day?" "I am sure I don't know; what do they 
taste like?" "Why, like pine-fat, rosin, or some- 
thing of that sort." " Phew, there bow," thought 



Letters to the Children. 31 

1, "we are all in trouble." The next thought was 
how to get out of it. I was the youngest, and the 
pet of the family, of course. So no matter what 
happened, I was not in much danger. But the rest, 
and specially the doctor, were rather uncomfortable. 
Mother, remembering that we all were in the room 
when the beans were cooking, said at once : " Some 
of you children have been meddling with that pot ; 
who was it?" Each being anxious to clear himself, 
said, It was Rachel — the doctor. We then went 
into an examination of the case, and had to tell all 
about how r it happened. After the testimony was 
all in, mother, being judge, rendered the verdict; 
and what do you think it was ? Why, that we chil- 
dren should eat every one of those beans ! That was 
heavy, because we had a very large family, and there 
were a great many beans; besides, they were all 
spoiled. I managed, somehow, to have the decision 
reversed as to me, but the others had the matter to 
meet. I do not now remember whether they ate 
them all or not. I rather think that after they had 
worked on them several days, by promising faith- 
fully not to meddle with any thing else as long as 
they lived, the whole of them were pardoned. Beans 
were at a discount with the doctor and his patients 
after that affair. I rarely ever see beans now that 
I do not think of that case. 

Now for a thought: that little piece of pine-fat, 
not larger than a pea, spoiled that whole pot of 
victuals. It was so small that it could not be seen 
after it was thrown in. Ay, it melted entirely, and 
seemed to have vanished away ; but it did its work, 



32 Letters to the Children. 

and so will every little evil thing you do. Every 
untruth, every frown, every cross word, every diso- 
bedience, every transgression, every evil thought, 
will work just like the pine-fat in the beans. It 
will spoil life. 

A wise man, the wisest one that ever lived, or 
ever will live, stated positively once what flies would 
do in a pot of ointment. E"ow, what boy or girl 
can tell me the name of that man, and where the 
statement is recorded? Let's see. 

" For God shall bring- every work into judgment, with every se- 
cret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." 



Letters to the Children. 33 



LETTER V. 

The Western Methodist — A No. 1 Editor — Distinguished men 
— A few letters — Hickory- nuts — The smutty end of the 
poker. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I have been getting so 
many letters since I wrote my last, that I have 
concluded to print them, instead of writing so much 
myself. I am delighted to find that so many little 
boys and girls read the papers, and especially the 
Western Methodist. I mention that one specially, 
because it is the organ of my Conference, and I 
think everybody belonging to the Church — I mean 
the Methodist Church — within the bounds of its cir- 
culation, ought to take it and read it; they will find a 
great deal of useful as well as instructive reading in 
it. Brother Johnson is a Xo. 1 Editor, and labors hard 
to make a good paper. Besides, he has many excel- 
lent writers helping him. Sometimes I pick up the 
paper, and what an array of talent I find ! It was 
only the, other day that I saw a number that con- 
tained articles from the pens of the following dis- 
tinguished men of our Church : Bishop Keener, Dr. 
J. B. McFerrin, Dr. R. A. Young, Dr. A. R. Win- 
field, Dr. Cunnyngham, and others — all of whom 
write a great deal that every little boy and girl that 
can read, can understand. 
2* 



34 Letters to the Children. 

ISTow for the letters. Well, the first is from 
"Jennie;" she says she would like to know me. I 
wish I knew her, because if she tries to do as well 
as she writes, I am sure the pleasure that it would 
afford me to add her name to my list of friends 
would be very great. I want you all to read her 
letter over carefully, and when you get to the place 
where the star is, I want you to open your eyes 
wide, and charge your memory with what follows. 
Each one of you will be safe, if you will follow her 
example : 

Uncle Bob: — My unknown uncle, at your request in your 
letter No. 2, in the Western Methodist, to little children, you 
want some little girl or boy to write to you and give you the 
definition of "concomitant." Dear Uncle Bob, 'tis true 'tis 
a big word for children to understand, but as I have had some 
little advantage of a school-room, and parents who try to in- 
struct me, I will try and answer your question. Does not the 
word "concomitant" mean companion, etc.? 

I have had some dear and devoted classmates, whom I 
loved much, and never tried to deceive them, and I hope I 
may never be like the two little boys which you described in 
your letter No. 2, that went to school one rainy day and met 
no other boys, and them and teacher was alone, and in dis- 
missing them he gave them some cakes out of his desk, and 
then they loved and praised the teacher very much, and when 
they returned to school, for some naughty thing, or neglect- 
ing their duty, the teacher found it his duty to use the rod, 
.and then they hated- him very much. Uncle Bob, I think 
those were very naughty boys, and I do not think that their 
'parents taught them correctly, for it was for their good that 
they received chastisement from their teacher. On the con- 
trary, they should have loved their teacher and thanked him 
for his correction. 

* I am a little girl, twelve years old, and have not had many 
advantages of good teachers, but I always studied very hard 



Letters to the Children. 35 

and tried to gain the affections of my dear teachers and class- 
mates, and I always told them the truth, and I always obeyed 
them, and consequently I never received a whipping at school, 
and not much from my parents. My papa never whipped me 
in his life, and always taught me to tell the truth and be lib- 
eral and kind to every one, and to love and respect persons 
older than myself, and to be kind to my concomitants. 

I am a regular reader of the Western Methodist, and I am 
always delighted when we get it from the office. I try to do 
what will please my parents and my sister and brother, and I 
would like very much to have the pleasure of seeing Uncle 
Bob. I think I would soon learn to love him too. If Uncle 
Bob should visit Brownsville, Tenn., my parents live five 
miles north of Brownsville, and would be pleased to see you. 
Yours truly, Jennie. 

The next is from "Addie." One of the principal 
•objects I had in view, tells in her case. She did 
not know the meaning of the word, but she got the 
dictionary and hunted it out. That 's the way to 
get information that will stick — hunt it out : 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I have just read your letter to the chil- 
dren. You asked some of us little folks to tell you the 
meaning of the word " concomitant." Webster says it means 
companion. I did not know what that big word meant, but 
I got the dictionary and looked it out. I am glad to receive 
your letters. Addie. 

The next is from "Annie," away over yonder at 
Fort Smith, Ark. One would think that she was 
in communication with the editor, and that he had 
told her who I am. She thinks she knows. I 
wonder if she can't guess again; who knows but 
she would strike it next time : 

Uncle Bob : — I thank you very much for your letters in the 
Methodist. I like them very much. I remember very well 



36 Letters to the Children. 

the day that we crossed the Arkansas Eiver at Van Buren, ki 
the time of the Conference. Now you are in disguise. You 

are nobody but the very . I wish you and your 

"concomitants" great success. Now, good-bye, . 

My name is Annie . 

The next is from T. Gr. P., a little boy. I can see 
the boy all through it. I know he is a boy, because 
he takes particular care to mention the sweet-cakes 
and hickory. You know we are apt to talk about 
things we love, and all boys love cakes and hickory- 
nuts. He makes an apology also for bad writings 
and threatens me with what he will do when he 
"gets" a man. That boy has vim. I like to see it; 
he will rise in the world. Mark that. And after 
"Uncle Bob" is dead, he may tower above his fel- 
lows in the councils of the nation. Stranger things 
have happened often. " The smutty end of the 
poker" always leaves its mark: 

Uncle Bob : — Well, I have found your great big word, " con- 
comitant." It means being together, and you said you would 
thank some boy or girl to send you the meaning of it. Well, 
Uncle Bob, you wrote about your sweet-cakes and the hick- 
ory ! Well, Uncle Bob, I know you will think this is wrote 
with the smutty end of the poker ; but wait till I get a man r 
and I will write pretty, too. T. Gr. P. 

I may tell you next week about the cracked jug 
and the horse I used to ride, named Snug. 

" Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand be- 
fore kings; he shall not stand before mean men." 



Letters to the Children. 37 



LETTER VI. 

Johnny Constant — Billy Reglar — A peace-man — Snug — The 
broken jug — An awful "fix — I was in tears. 

DEAR CHILDREN" :— Below find a few more 
letters, written by my juvenile friends. They 
are from Arkansas, Kentucky, and Tennessee, and 
will interest you. 

One of my correspondents wants me to write and 
tell him if " George " and myself have ever had a 
whipping since Mr. "Warfield gave it to us on the 
•cake account. Yes, we got many a one after that, 
•although I was always opposed to fighting; so much 
so, I never struck hack, hut just took it as calmly 
as the circumstances would allow. I am a peace- 
man now; do n't believe in war, quarreling, or strife 
of any sort, among men or children. I remember 
well a little piece that was in my reading-book when 
.1 went to school — I fear has been forgotten by a 
great many. I will insert it here, and want you all 
to read it and " tell it round :" 

" Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 
For God has made them so ; 
Let bears and lions growl and fight — 
It is their nature, too ; 



38 Letters to the Children". 

But, children, you should never let 

Such angry passions rise ; 
Your little hands were never made 

To tear each other's eyes." 

Now, for the letters : 

Dear Uncle Bob: — While you address yourself to "chil- 
dren" I must think you include me, for really I am only a 
child — a school -girl, not half through with my studies. Your 
very amusing and instructive narrative about the doctor, the 
pills, and the beans, gives us another big word — "permeated." 
Well, that means to penetrate, to saturate, to pass into every 
part without displacing the substance into which it passes, as 
the rosin did the beans, as the beans did the doctor and her 
patients, after being compelled to eat them ; as the reading 
of your narrative did my laughing powers, and as the excel- 
lent moral did my mind, producing gravity and serious 
thoughts. Affectionately, Jessie. 

Uncle Bob — Bear Sir : — I was very much pleased with your 
letter of last week to the boys and girls, and hope you will 
continue them. And now I will tell you what is the meaning 
of your big word, " concomitant." It means accompanying, 
attendant, that is the attendants of honor. If I have not given 
you the proper answer, please correct. Uncle Bob, I cannot 
help envying you your cake, but not your whipping. Hoping 
to hear from you often through the Western Methodist, I sign my- 
self, as ever, your juvenile friend, Ben. W. Shepard. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — The question about the wise man is so> 
very easily answered that it must be intended for very little- 
children, so I will answer it. The wise man was Solomon. I 
do not find the place where the wise man says one fly will 
spoil a pot of ointment. In the 10th chapter of Ecclesiastes, 
and the first verse, I find that " dead flies " spoil the " apothe- 
cary's ointment," and that "a little folly" spoils a person's 
reputation. I think one sin would spoil a child's heart. Your 
loving Alice. 

Uncle Bob — Dear Sir : — I am well pleased with your letter 
in the Western Methodist. I have just found out " concomi- 



Letters to the Children. 39 

tant " — it means to assist, to help, to aid, to build up. If you 
please, write to me and tell me if you and George have ever 
got a whipping since Mr. Warfield gave you those cakes. 
Hoping to hear from you very often, I would like to have had 
your cakes, but not your whipping. Eugene B. Bunch. 

Dear Uncle Bob : — I am a close reader of the Western Meth- 
odist, and am very much interested in your letters. I am eight 
years old. I have been going to school four months — have to 
study very hard at home. Permeate means to pass through. 
Solomon was the one who said dead flies cause the ointment of 
the apothecary to send forth a stinking savor — 10th chapter of 
Ecclesiastes, first verse. I remain yours, respectfully, 

Wiley W. Nunn. 

I promised in my last to tell you something about 
the cracked jug and Snug. I will have to leave Snug 
out, as I am pressed for room. I may bring her in 
some other time. Molasses was a staple at our 
house when I was a boy. We children gave it and 
cornbread nicknames. Molasses was "Billy Reg- 
lar," and cornbread was "Johnny Constant." Let 's 
see. We used to have molasses on our bread, on 
our mush, on our rice, in our taffy, and, when sugar 
was scarce, in our coffee. It then went by the name 
of "Long Sweetening." Then we had it in our 
milk after it got thick. Webster calls it " bonny 
clabber," and spells it like I have written it ; but 
when I went to school we used to spell it this way : 
" Baugh-naugh-claugh-baugh" In some of the ways 
mentioned I did not like it, but I had to put up 
with it, and many other things I did n't like, in those 
days, just as I have to do now. 

I used to think then, when I got to be a man 
matters would go just to suit me, and if they did n't 



40 Letters to the Children. 

I would make them do it. Mother used to say to 
me sometimes : "Ah, child, you are now eating your 
white bread ! You will jump out of the frying-pan 
into the fire." That was a strong manner of ex- 
pressing this thought. Being a man or a woman 
will not lessen the responsibilities, cares, or troubles 
of life, but rather increase them. I mention this 
for the benefit of those who are now having what 
they call "a hard time." Every trouble you have 
early in life will be that much to your advantage. 
It is a schooling that is necessary, and you know 
that the boys who have the best teachers and study 
hard, go through life as men, with confidence, and 
do much to bless mankind; while those who never 
had to rough it any, always had " a good easy time," 
generally let every thing go easy and easier, and 
really do n't amount to much any way. 

Then, in harvest-time father made a drink for the 
hands out of molasses and ginger, called sangeree. 
We were great temperance folks, and father had 
that as a substitute for whis-key; consequently we 
never had any drunkards about us, and our work 
was as well and promptly done as that of those who 
gave the hands " drams." Father used to say that 
he did not want to take the responsibility of mak- 
ing drunkards. "And," said he, "when once a 
young man begins to take his daily drink of any 
thing that will intoxicate, no one can tell where the 
end will be." Hence he never offered the "bottle" 
to his neighbor's lips, he never kept it about the 
house, and never wanted mother to use it in mince- 
pies. He was a " teetotaller " in all cases except 



Letters to the Children. 41 

medicinal, and notwithstanding he was of delicate 
constitution, he lived until his sixty -fourth year, 
and had the confidence and respect of everybody 
that knew him. Had he been a dram-drinker, he 
•would not have been able to properly support and 
raise his family of children; would have died in all 
probability ten years before he did, and others, my- 
self among the number, might have been led astray 
by his example. Boys, the safest plan is never to 
touch liquor as a beverage. It will lead you into a 
thousand snares, and overthrow you at last. But I 
am wandering — I must return.- 

One day, mother reported the molasses out. I 
was called, and told to saddle and bridle Snug and 
go to Savage, a little village two miles off', and have 
the jug filled. I got ready, put the jug in one end 
of an old meal-bag and a flat-iron, brick, stone, or 
something else, in the other to balance, and off I 
started. After a pleasant ride I found myself in 
the store, got the molasses and made arrangements 
to leave. I found the balance of power was on the 
side of the jug. I abandoned the whatever was in 
the other end and concluded to take the bag before 
me. In order to get it up, I had to set it on some- 
thing and ride along side and lift it. There was a 
flight of steps in the rear of the store, that was my 
getting-up place. The bottom step was rough gran- 
ite. I set the bag on it. I was not as careful in 
setting it down as I should have been, as you will 
see before I get through. I found the jug would 
have to set on what they call the wethers of Snug, 
and as she walked, her shoulders worked up and 



42 Letters to the Children. 

down, and gave me as much as I could do to hold 
the jug and myself in place. I thought her shoul- 
ders worked more that day than ever I had known, 
but that was not so. I had never had any thing to 
call my attention to the fact so forcibly. You will 
find that a great many things are doing more than 
you think if you will just watch them, specially evil 
things. I want all you children to keep an eye on 
your bad habits; their progress will astonish you, 
and frighten you away from many of them, no 
doubt. We jogged along, but before half the dis- 
tance was traveled I found that molasses Was drip- 
ping from the bag. The thought flashed upon me 
in an instant that I had set the bag on the granite 
step too hard and had cracked the jug, and the mo- 
tion Snug's walking caused increased the crack. 
I called a halt, and found that as long as we kept 
still the leak stopped. There I was, far away from 
home, and it raining. I had to move, and yet I was 
afraid. Notwithstanding I made Snug walk as 
slow as I could, I thought her shoulder-blades were 
getting longer. I was in an awful fix, and began 
crying, but that did n't help the case a bit. The 
dripping went on. About a quarter of a mile from 
home there was a gate. Here my trouble increased, 
for as I leaned forward to lift the latch, I bore a 
little, a very little, against the jug, and what do you 
think ? why the whole thing collapsed, went down 
with a dull sort of a gurgle, and there we were, 
Snug and I, with a lap full of 'lasses. I was in tears 
as well as 'lasses. I was n't very pretty, but how 
sweet ! I was the sweetest boy you ever saw. I 



Letters to the Children. 43 

rode up to the house feeling awful. I did n't care 
about the rain or my bedaubed condition; but to 
think that I had broken a two -gallon jug and 
spilled the molasses was too much. I was afraid it 
would be more than father and mother could stand, 
for it was about two dollars' worth. That amount 
looked large to me then. But father, as was his 
custom, said little — " What a pity I" or something 
of that sort. Mother was a little more exacting, 
and I had to go into particulars. After I had ex- 
plained and given her assurance that nobody could 
feel any "badder" about the thing than I did, she 
laughed, gave me some clean clothes, and then I 
was as happy as I ever have been in my life. So' 
you see that often great happiness immediately 
succeeds great trial. 

That adventure has been a help to me since I 've- 
been a man, many a time, when I have had "rough 
weather." So, boys and girls, I want you to re- 
member that no matter how rough and thorny may 
be the road over which you travel, others have gone j 
along there before you, when it was rougher, and 
still have reached the end. So get yourselves ready 
for whatever comes. Master the situation by dili- 
gence and temperance, and you will be the men and 
women of mark. You will give tone to society — 
stamp your character upon every incident of life; and 
then, in the end, you will receive that highest of all 
commendations: " Well done, thou good and faith- 
ful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 

" Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging : and whosoever is> 
deceived thereby is not wise." 



44 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER VII. 

Louisville — Gait House — The Mission Sabbath-school — Forgot 
to look up — A speech — The little preacher. 

DEAR CHILDREN: — I am afraid my last 
week's letter was too long, and may be some 
of you didn't read it all. I won't write as much 
this time, but I will try and give you something to 
think about. I have received some of the neatest 
little letters since my last that you ever saw. I 
wish I could show them to you, but I can't, for then 
you would learn who I am, and that wouldn't do, 
you know. I will print them, though, just like I 
have done some others, and let you see how they 
look. 

Since I began these letters how the weeks have 
rolled off ! By the time I get one finished, it is 
lime to begin another, and I am ever wondering 
what I will have to say next. 

I went to that beautiful city, Louisville, Ky., a 
few years ago, and put up at the Gait House, one 
rof the most elegant hotels in the country. 

I was there on Sunday. You know some people 
do n't get up as soon that day as they do on week- 
days, and consequently breakfast is late, and often 



Letters to the Children. 45 

every thing is put back. The result is, when peo- 
ple do that way often their children get to the Sun- 
day-school when it has been opened, and all the 
lessons half over; and they get to church them- 
selves, if indeed they go at all, after the preaching 
is begun. That interrupts the quietness that should 
always be observed during divine service. Every- 
body ought to get up soon Sunday, and give the 
whole day to God. 

I was up betimes that morning, and found I was 
too soon for breakfast. I walked into one of the 
reception-rooms, took a seat, and began to study a 
little. I was ffoins: to attend Brother Rivers' s Sun- 
day-school, and I did n't know but the superintend- 
ent or preacher would ask me to say something, and 
I was trying to think it up. "While sitting there I 
noticed a small flat book lying on the center-table. 
I picked it up, and found that it was filled mostly 
with advertisements, but here and there was a little 
reading. One piece had this heading : 

"forgot to look up." 

It attracted mv attention. I besran to read. The 
more I read the more interested I became. It was 
a good piece, and showed so clearly and forcibly 
what a child did, that I got it almost by heart. In 
the afternoon there was a large Sunday-school gath- 
ering of the mission. I attended. Dr. Sehon was 
there, and although I took a back seat and tried to 
hide, his keen eye spied me out, and the first thing 
I knew he was introducing me to the audience, and 
maki ng arrangements for me to speak. That scared 



46 Letters to the Children. 

.all my set speeches out of me. I thought of the 
piece I had read at the hotel, and concluded that 
would be a good place and time to use it. I did so, 
and I expect some boys and girls who heard it re- 
member it to this day. 

I will now tell it to you, and want you all to read, 
and re-read it, until you can tell it without looking 
at it. Listen, now, for it begins here : 

A man, either too lazy or too proud to work, got 
out of corn. His neighbor had a good crop not far 
from his house, and he concluded to go and steal 
some. He took a sack and his little son with him. 
When he reached the field he set the little fellow 
on the fence to watch, and instructed him to tell him 
if he saw any one coming. Before he began to pull 
the ears from the stalk he looked east, west, north, 
and south. Satisfied that no one saw him, he began, 
He had not pulled an ear when his little son inter- 
rupted him, saying, " Papa, there is one way you 
forgot to look." The old man said, "Which?" 
The little fellow raised his baby arm, and with his 
index finger pointing upward toward the sky, said, 
"You forgot to look up." That was one of God's 
arrows, and it was pointed with fire. It pierced the 
breast of that man, and burned out every speck of 
rogue. He didn't steal an ear of that corn. He 
took his empty sack on his arm, and his little preacher 
by the hand, and went home a changed man. He 
was converted afterward, and no doubt died in the 
faith and was saved. I wondered then, and have 
ever since, what became of the boy. I feel satisfied 
that he must have made his mark in the world, but 



Letters to the Children. 47 

i would be much more gratified if the writer had 
given his record. I suppose he didn't know it. 
The lessons to he learned from this story are these : 

1. Children can work for God. They can use the 
oross-bow of the gospel, and shoot arrows with as 
much precision and force as if they were giants. 

2. When tempted to do wrong of any sort, al- 
though no human eye sees you, remember that the 
all-seeing eye of the great God is upon you, and 
that it is impossible to hide any thing from him. 

There is a passage of scripture which this story 
calls to my mind. I want you to hunt it up and see 
if I quote it right : " The eye of the Lord is in every 
place, beholding the evil and the good." 

You have read my letter, now read your own. 
They all please me very much. I would say to my 
little friend, Betty, who invites me down to eat fried 
chicken, that she must keep them for the preach- 
ers; pork and beans, with a very little molasses, 
will do me. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — Your kind letters to the children every 
week are highly prized, and read with much pleasure. They 
must feel complimented when they see that you do not forget 
them, and even write when you do not feel like it. Although 
"the pot of beans," when seasoned with the pine pill, did not 
prove palatable to the cook, still it has taught a pretty moral 
for Sunday-school children; and now that it is too late to re- 
gret the accident, may we not be thankful that it happened? 
Some of your readers prefer your letter column to Dr. Young's 
column. Hoping you will continue to favor us with your let- 
ters and sentiments, I subscribe myself one of your ever- 
grateful Headers. 

Dear Uxcle Bob: — I have been a long time saying that I 



48 Letters to the Children. 

was going to write to you, and tell you what that big word 
meant. It means accompanying, joined to, or attendant. 
We take the Western Methodist at our house, and I like it so 
much. I live in the beautiful little Valley of Arcadia, in 
Missouri. It is not far from St. Louis. My pa is a preacher — 
tie preaches at St. Louis. I go to school at the Arcadia Col- 
lege. It is a fine brick building, four story high. If you ever 
xmie to Arcadia, we would be pleased to see you at our house. 
[ am only thirteen years old, and so you must excuse bad 
writing, and next time I will do better; any way, I will try. 
I take music lessons on the piano, and am learning real fast, 
so when you come to see us I will play some for you. 

I have always heard that ministers like fried chickens. You 
know I said that papa was* a preacher, so we always have a 
good many chickens on hand; so, if you want any, come down 
this summer. From your little friend, Betty Gr. Lewis. 

Dear Uncle Bob : — Mamma takes the Western Methodist, and 
I have read all of your letters, and the letters you got from " the 
little girls." So I thought as I was a little girl I would write 
and tell you that I think I have found out who the wise man 
was, and what he said about the flies in the ointment. It is 
found in Ecclesiastes x. 1. It is this: "Dead flies cause the 
ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savor; so 
doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and 
honor." The meaning of "permeated," in the way you used 
it, meant that it melted and caused all of the beans to taste 
like the pill itself. I hope you will continue to write and give 
us something to hunt out every week. Your loving little 
niece, Clara. 

P. S. I forgot to tell you the name of the wise man — it is 
Solomon. C. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — We got the Western Methodist at our 
house this morning, and of course I was eager to read " Uncle 
Bob's" fourth letter to children; and let me thank you first 
for the interest you are taking in us "little fo Iks;" we feel 
quite important now, to see one column of our Methodist de- 
voted to the children. I am sorry I was too late in sending 



Letters to the Children. 49 

the meaning of the word " concomitant." I found it out, but 
see that some little girls were ahead of me. This time I want 
to be fast enough, and hope that I won't be disappointed in 
the answer. 

Solomon was the wisest man that ever lived, or that ever 
will live, and in Ecclesiastes x. 1 I found this: "Dead flies 
cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stink- 
ing savor; so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for 
wisdom and honor." Sometimes I am afraid this is not the 
answer, but I will venture to send this. I am twelve years 
old. My name is Annie Quarles, and I live at Fulton, Hemp- 
stead county, Ark. Accept the best wishes of your little 
friend, Annie. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I read your letters in the Western Meth- 
odist, and like them very much. I am a little boy twelve 
years old — hope I am not too old to answer your question in 
your last letter. It was Solomon who was the wisest man 
that ever lived, or ever will live. It was he who said a fly 
would spoil a pot of ointment. And you will find it recorded 
in Ecclesiastes x. 1. 

I will also tell you the meaning of that -big word "perme- 
ated," if you ha^e no objection. It means to pass through 
the pores, that is, mixing all through. Hoping to hear from 
you every week, I will bid you adieu. Charlie. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I am afraid that my little sister, Willie, 
will get ahead of me, as she is trying very hard to write you 
a nice letter. "Permeate" means to pass through. Little 
children are like little twigs. If they are trained up right 
when they are little, they will grow right; as the proverb 
says, " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he 
is old he will not depart from it." That is a good proverb, 
and a true saying. I am a little girl, eleven years old. I am 
afraid, Uncle Bob, you might think that I did not write this 
letter, but I did. From your little friend, Payne. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I am sorry that I did not write sooner. 
'Permeate" means to go through, like the pill of rosin per- 
3 



50 Letters to the Children. 

meated the pot of beans. One little sin will permeate the 
whole body, mind, and heart. I am a little girl, nine years 
old. From your little friend, Willie. 

Uncle Bob : — We take several good papers, among which is 
the Methodist, which is the favorite with us children. Your 
letters to the children are very interesting. In your letter 
No. 4, I found your question, which you desired some boy or 
girl to answer ; so I got my Bible and looked it up. It was 
spoken by Solomon, the wisest man, and may be found in 
Ecclesiastes x. 1 : " Dead flies cause the ointment of the apoth- 
ecary to send forth a stinking savor ; so doth a little folly him 
that is in reputation for wisdom and honor." I am aged 
fourteen years. K. P. W. 

" Let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the 
error of his way, shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multi- 
tude of sins." 



Letters to the Children. 51 



LETTER VIII. 

Horror of gray hair — Cheating nature — Painting and pow- 
dering — The golden age — The child dies in less than an 
hour — We are monarch of all we survey. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I think a great deal of 
old people. I was always taught to honor 
age, and to pay the fathers and mothers in Israel 
the greatest respect. Some people do n't want to 
grow old. They have a horror of gray hair, and 
of the furrows that time plows upon their cheeks. 
Some of them go so far as to try to cheat Nature of 
her rights, by dyeing their hair, and filling up the 
furrows with paint. They do not succeed, however, 
for old Nature is stern and firm — won't be moved. 
Nay, she scorns the very idea, and if you will notice 
you will see how she shoves it all off every few 
days. It won't do for folks to complain about not 
having their rights, and being deprived of them, 
and all that, while they are doing the same things 
of which they complain, and against a higher law. 
Children — girls specially — I want to warn you 
against these things : do n't powder, do n't paint, 
do n't dye your hair. You may think now that I 
am an old fogy, and perhaps some of the young la- 



52 Letters to the Children. 

dies will think me impertinent, but all such have 
given the matter scarcely any thought, and are un- 
acquainted with the philosophy that lies at the 
bottom. 

If you will listen to me a few minutes now, I will 
tell you my reasons for giving you such advice, and 
if you do n't find out before, you will when you grow 
up and study carefully the laws which govern the 
physical world. 

The skin is filled with little holes, called pores. 
Through these little holes the forces within throw 
out all impurities as fast as they accumulate. This 
is necessary, in order to health. Nature, or rather, 
nature's God, made this provision, and it is your 
duty to see that it is not infringed upon. If you 
fill up these pores with chalk, starch, mean -fun, 
balms, lily-white, or other humbugs, which profess 
to make you pretty, do n't you see that the healthy 
life-current is obstructed, and ceases, in a great 
measure, to exercise its functions in that part of the 
body ? The skin first becomes rough, then begins 
to shrink, wrinkle, and lo ! you will be old and sal- 
low before you are middle-aged. These things are 
so, and if you do n't believe it, just follow in the 
footsteps of the mass of young ladies of the period, 
and take the consequences. And then — when you 
find out for yourself — I want you to drop me a line, 
if I 'm living. • 

Let me tell you a fact : If some of the young wo- 
men, and old ones too, were to smear over their 
bodies like they do their faces, they could not live 
one day. A certain monarch wanted to represent 



Letters to the Children. 53 

the golden age, and thought a living being would 
be the best subject. He took a child, spread it over 
with a preparation to which gold leaf would stick, 
and then had it covered all over with gold. When 
the job was done, all of the little pores were com- 
pletely closed, and the child died in less than an 
hour. 

It is important, my dear children, that you should 
know something about the laws that belong to 
the well-being of your little bodies, because these 
are said, in the Bible, to be the temples of God, and 
if any defile them, those who do that thing, God 
will destroy. 

But see how much I am writing. I am afraid I 
will be too long. Our letters took up over two col- 
umns of the paper last week. I felt a little ticklish 
when I saw it, because I am acquainted with the 
editor, and he is the greatest man on space you ever 
saw. He likes a good deal himself, but sometimes 
he cuts down other folks mightily. I was afraid 
he would snap his scissors at us. That, you know, 
would make us feel bad. But then he is smart, and 
knows a thing or two. He knows that there are 
some little boys and girls that could get up a club 
of subscribers, if they would try; that they all will 
be men and women in a few years; that some of 
the boys will be preachers, and will wield a great 
influence, and that they will be sure to remember 
those who gave them attention when they were 
" little people." I was relieved the other day when 
I saw him. Instead of saying, "Look here, old 
gentleman, you must wind to a close," he said to 



54 Letters to the Children. 

me, easy, so nobody else could hear him: "How 
much c space' do you want me to leave for you next 
time?" I breathed long, and said, "About two 
columns, I reckon." He turned off' with a pleasant 
smile, and behold ! " we are monarch of all we sur- 
vey, our right there is none to dispute." Now, 
children, let 's fill the space allowed, and try to do 
something for the paper that grants us such a priv- 
ilege. 

Since my last, a little pet, named Mary, from Mt. 
Zion, Tenn., has written me another letter. She 
searched the dictionary, and gives a correct expla- 
nation to the " big word," but as it has been noticed 
so much, I will omit that part of her letter, and 
publish the remainder. She says : 

I am eleven years old. I live near Mt. Zion. Dear Uncle 
Bob, I would like to see you. I know you are a good old! 
man. I like all such good old men as you are. I should like 
very much for you to continue your letters. Well, good-bye, 
dear Uncle Bob. Mary. 

For the present I must bid you adieu. But be- 
fore I do so, I wish to give you something to hunt 
up. Here it is: How many commandments are 
there ? 

"He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso con- 
fesseth and forsaketh them shall have meroy " 



Letters to the Childken. 55 



LETTER IX. 

A big cat — An old hen — Selling the calves — My grief — Snug's 
sickness — Conscience at work — While folks are alive, the 
time to treat them respectfully — Snug dies. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— I suppose each boy of 
you that lives in the country has a horse, mule, 
cow, calf, hog, dog, or some other live animal, to 
which you have taken a fancy, and call it yours. 

Each girl has, especially the Marys, "a little 
lamb, with fleece as white as snow," a big cat, an 
old hen with chickens, or young ducks, or a bird's 
nest in the honeysuckle, or something else that she 
calls hers, and to which she gives much attention. 

A desire to own something seems to be promi- 
nent in human nature. It was just so when I was 
a boy. I came very near claiming every thing, and 
you do not know how sad I used to be when a huck- 
ster's white-covered wagon, filled with shad and 
herring from the old Potomac, drove up into our 
yard. Some favorite calf, or sheep, was sure to go. 
I used to enter my protest, but it was of no avail. 
Father wanted fish, and as money was scarce, bar- 
tering or trading was the order of the day. I often 
wished that I had the money. I would have never 
parted with the pets. When the trade was made, 



56 Letters to the Children. 

the calves or lambs tied, and lifted into the wagon, 
1 used to bid them good-bye, then go to the barn, 
or behind the house, and cry. I have done so many 
a time. 

Sometimes, however, the animals to which I was 
attached were never sold. It seemed to be their lot 
to die with us. "When such an event occurred I 
was miserable. I had reflections that it would be 
impossible for me to describe to you fully. Some 
of my thoughts, though, I can mention. The first 
one was usually this : "What did I ever do to make 
life happy to the poor creature? what did I ever do 
to make its life hard and weary? I used to wonder 
if brutes in their sickness and death suffered like 
people, and whether they would ever live again and 
tell on me — about my inhumanity to them. I used 
to worry myself trying to call up the good deeds I 
had done for them, but it always took three or four 
to make up for every bad one, and then it was n't 
satisfactory. How the remembrance of my ill-treat- 
ment of them at times did lash my conscience ! I 
dreamed about it, talked about it often over their 
dead bodies, and promised myself time and again 
that I would treat the living better. I think I was 
made more humane by experience of this kind. 

There was on our place one animal that grew up 
with me, as it were, and for her I formed an attach- 
ment of an abiding character. That animal was 
Snug, the horse I used to ride, and that has been 
mentioned in a previous letter. Snug was what I 
used to call red, but I believe "they all said" she 
was sorrel. She had a beautiful curly blaze in her 



Letters to the Children. 57 

face, and a little white about her hind fetlocks, 
beautifully formed. She was full of life, and as fleet 
as a hare. 

When I saddled and mounted her, with a clean 
linen suit on, I could take the shine off any boy in 
the neighborhood. "When all hands were busy on 
the farm, Snug and I had to go to mill. The corn 
was put into a sack, as equally divided as convenient, 
then thrown across Snug's back, upon which I was 
seated, and so off we went. Sometimes I was a lit- 
tle careless, and didn't watch, and the first thing I 
knew was the unpleasant fact that matters were be- 
coming too one-sided. Then I was in a stew, I can 
tell you. I would sit as far up on the light side as 
I could, pat Snug to make her go gently, and wish 
for somebody to overtake or meet me. I felt the 
need of a helping hand. Relief came often in time, 
and every thing was readjusted; but now and then 
the bag would slide off, and I generally went with 
it. I was too little to get it up again myself, and 
so we had to wait. That learned me patience, for 
it was a long time before any one would come. It 
was n't as long as it seemed, but it was all the same 
to me. I always liked the man who gave me a lift, 
and promised to do something for him some day. I 
make it a rule to help every one that needs it if I 
can. The miller would be busy occasionally, and 
could not grind my corn, hence I had to go home 
and return next day. On the way back I would fall 
in with " George," or some other of my chums, and 
the first thing suggested was a race. I knew Snug, 
and was always ready to give them a turn. I don't 
3* 



58 Letters to the Children. 

think she ever was beaten. Father would hear of 
the racing, and then came a reckoning. You all 
know what that means. Thus matters moved on 
for years. 

After awhile Snug began to decline. Each suc- 
ceeding winter told me that her days were nearly 
ended. "We had large pastures, and used to turn the 
horses out. One night Snug did not come up. Early 
next morning I was out hunting her. After awhile 
I found her in a grove of pines, standing with her 
head hanging down, just as if she was thinking 
about something. I went to her, and found she was 
sick. The weather was pleasant, and we concluded 
to administer to her in the grove. I would go 
every day and carry her something to eat, watch by 
her, and talk to her. She gradually grew worse, 
and finally got down. I began to think she would 
die, and then I recalled all my bad treatment of 
her, and if she could have talked I know she would 
have forgiven me, because I told her I was sorry, 
and hugged her round the neck, and did every thing 
I could to comfort her in her last days. One day I 
left her, looking, as I thought, better. I was cheered, 
for, said I, who knows but she will get well? "When 
I went back she was dead. I was greatly grieved. 
My mind ran back over all the past, and after her 
body decayed and went to dust, I used to go and 
look at her bones, and wonder whether I would ever 
see her again. 

Now, children, there is a point I wish to impress 
upon you. Some people treat their fellow-men, and 
some children treat their mothers and fathers, just 



Letters to the Children. 59 

like I did Snug. When they are about to die, or 
after they are dead, those children show their bodies 
greater respect than they did when alive. They 
make a long funeral-procession — have a fine coffin, 
and then build up a great marble house to lay their 
bones in, or erect a massive and costly monument 
over their graves. They seem to be trying to make 
amends for what they have done, or failed to do, 
when their parents were alive. I would rather see 
manifestations of love and respect after death than 
not at all; but let me tell you, they come too late. 
I want every one of my dear little readers, who 
have fathers and mothers, to do their very best to 
make them happy while they are living. Remem- 
ber, a few years comprise about all our earthly com- 
munion any way, and if you could only know the 
anxious thoughts they have about you, and how 
often sleep leaves them because of their anxiety 
concerning you, you would be astonished. 

I do not expect you to appreciate fully all I have 
written, because much of it comes only by experi- 
ence; but then you can be advised by one who has 
experience, and avoid the difficulties by taking heed 
to advice. 

Here are seven letters I have received this week : 

Dear Uncle Bob: — We take a good many papers, among 
which is the Western Methodist. I read your letters to the 
children with the greatest interest, and have been intending 
to write to you for some time, but have put it off until now. 
I live in Bolivar, Hardeman county, Tenn., and am thirteen* 
years old. My father is the superintendent of the Methodist 
Sunday-school at this place. We have a very nourishing Sun- 
day-school. We are having our church repaired, and we would* 



60 Letters to the Children. 

be very glad to have you come to our District Conference in 
August next, and would like to have you stop at our house, 
as I have a great curiosity to see and know Uncle Bob, who is 
so kind as to write to the children every week. The Eev. J. 
W. Atkinson is our pastor. 

In your last letter you gave a quotation from the Scriptures, 
and asked the children to look it up and see if you had 
quoted it right. The quotation you gave was: "The eye of 
the Lord is in every place, beholding the evil and the good." 
I find a very slight error in it, but an error, nevertheless. 
You use eye, singular, for eyes, plural, and is, singular, for 
are, plural. The passage of scripture reads thus: "The eyes 
of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the 
good." Prov. xv. 3. 

Hoping that you will continue your instructive and inter- 
esting letters to the children, I close my letter for the pres- 
ent, and remain most gratefully, your unknown little friend, 

Ella C. Newbern. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I have been wanting to thank you some 
itime for your letters to us children in the Western Methodist. 
I thank you now very much. I felt so sorry for you, Uncle 
Bob, when I read about your getting the jug broke, and was 
very much relieved when I found your pa and ma didn't 
scold. I did hunt up your quotation — hunted it up with the 
help of the Concordance. It should have been, "The eyes of 
the Lord are," instead of "the eye of the Lord is." A gen- 
tleman from Memphis, by the name of Mr. B , once vis- 
ited our little town, and complained mightily of the mud. If 
he was here now he would think we had mud sure enough. 

If you know Mr. B , Uncle Bob, please tell him we would 

like to see him here again very much; and, Uncle Bob, you 

liave a very kind invitation to visit us. You and Mr. B 

-can come together. Your loving niece, Clara. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — Pa takes the Western Methodist. We re- 
ceived it yesterday. Your column is read by us little folks 
with great interest. Uncle Bob, you make us feel very im- 
•portant. I had to get my Bible and look for that passage of 



Letters to the Children. 61 

scripture. You did not qoute it exactly right. I found it 
15th chapter, 3d verse, of Proverbs: "The eyes of the Lord 
are in every place, beholding the evil and the good." Uncle 
Bob, I hope your letters may be found in the Western Method- 
ist all the year. Uncle Bob, you intend to make us little 
folks study very hard — you give us so many "big" words to 
define. Please excuse bad writing. From your little friend, 

Maggie. 

Dear Uxcle Bob: — Pa takes the Western Methodist, and I 
read your letters to children, and am delighted with them. 
In your letter No. 7 you quoted a passage of scripture, and 
said you wanted the children to hunt it up and see if you 
quoted it right. As I am a child, I will write and tell you 
that it can be found in Prov. xv. 3. You did not quote it 
exactly right. "The eyes of the Lord are in every place, be- 
holding the evil and the good." When we are enticed to do 
wrong, we should remember that the eyes of the Lord run to 
and fro throughout the whole earth, to show himself strong 
in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him. 
From your little friend, Lurah. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I have just been reading your good let- 
ters to children in the Western Methodist, letter No. 4. I think 
that wise man must be King Solomon, who said positively 
once what flies would do "in a pot of ointment." Am I right, 
Uncle Bob? I love to read your letters when you ask us lit- 
tle people to answer questions and give the meaning of big 
words. I did not have time to tell what that big word meant 

— "concomitant" — but little Jennie, Addie, and T. Gr. P , 

told you. I will be ready next time.. I am nine years old, 
Uncle Bob. Yours truly, Walt. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — I have read your letters in the Western 
Methodist with great pleasure. I hope you will continue to 
write to us. I found the passage of scripture you quoted in 
the 15th chapter and 3d verse of Proverbs. It is: "The eyes 
of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the 
good." Your little niece, Katie. 



■S2 Letters to the Children. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — Pa takes the Western Methodist, and I 
shave ; read all of your letters, and like them very much. You 
are not exactly correct in the verse you quoted. It is: "The 
eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and 
the good." Prov. xv. 3. Hoping to hear from you soon, I 
;amyour little niece, Lula. 

You will observe that they all call attention to 
the quotation in letter ]S"o. 7, and the errors I com- 
mitted. That's right, children. Those errors made 
by me will impress the passage more forcibly upon 
your minds. That is the way to make nice critics 
of you ; but you had better look sharp, or I will 
catch some of you, like the school teacher does 
sometimes after you have gotten somebody to do 
your sums for you. 

But I must close. Here are a few lines I want 
you to commit to memory. They are better than 
; all our letters put together : 

" Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may he long 
.upon the land whioh the Lord thy God giveth thee." 



Letters to the Children. 63 



LETTER X. 

Little Rena on crutches — " Cater Pillar" — Up the wrong tree 
— A little girl that knows the commandments by heart — 
Not going to die now. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I was thinking yesterday 
that I would not write any thing this week ; 
but that thought was banished after reading a letter 

from little Rena T. A , of Oxford, Miss. 

She writes me that she has been confined to her 
bed with rheumatism ever since last November, and 
when the Sunday-school bell rings she creeps into 
the yard on her crutches, and looks at the little 
boys and girls going, and feels so sorry that she is 
not able to join them. Some of the little ones call 
to see her, and sympathize ; but — I dislike to tell 
it — her teacher has never been to see her since her 
affliction. Is it possible? She says she enjoys my 
letters, and would feel sorry to open the Western 
Methodist and find that I had failed to write. I 
want all the little boys and girls in Oxford to go 
and see Rena. Tell her what was done, what you 
learned, and what the superintendent and pastor 
said ; it will do her good, and strengthen your own 
minds. 



64 Letters to the Children. 

I have received too many letters to publish this 
week. I will have to mention the names and make 
a few extracts only. 

The first is from one who signs his name " Cater 
Pillar." He says he thinks he has had the pleasure 
of seeing me, and that I rode his father's horse from 
Brownsville, Tenn., last August or September ; and 
he hopes the water from the well north of " Forky- 
deer" River permeated my wounded foot and re- 
stored it. He wants me to come again, if my visits 
are short, and assures me that he can always give 
me "Johnny Constant and Billy Reglar." That's 
as good as I want. But let me tell you : I never 
rode a horse from Brownsville, I never bathed a 
wounded foot in the water from the well beyond 
" Forkydeer." You are up the wrong tree, Mr. 
" Cater Pillar." But if you will drop me a line 
and give me the name of the gentleman who did 
ride th& horse, I will show you the right man one 
of these days, perhaps. 

Then comes one from Flora C. M -, post- 
marked Waterford, Miss. She is anxious to know 
who I am, and asks me why I do n't tell. Then 
she goes on, writes a very sensible letter, and asks 
me to call at her house, if I ever travel through 
North Mississippi. She promises me fried chicken, 
and thinks, if I am not a preacher, that I am as 
good as one, but fails to tell me who she is and 
where she lives. I won't know, Flora, where to 
go, unless you can make arrangements for the 
chickens to crow when I 'm about. 

The next is from Walter. He lives at Stanton, 



Letters to the Children. 65 

Term. He says his school advantages have been 
slim ; yet he writes a good letter, and proves to my 
satisfaction that he is a reader of the Bible. He 
says there are eleven commandments, and tells me 
where to find them. I want each one of yon to 
get yonr Bible or little Testament, and read the 
eleventh one. You will find it in the 13th chapter 
of John, and at the 34th verse. You must read it 
carefully, as I want the sentiment it contains deeply 
and indelibly fixed in your mind. Then get the 
dictionary, and look up the meaning of that word 
" indelibly." 

I think it is next to the greatest of all the com- 
mandments. I think so because the Master said 
so. Can you tell me where ? What is as strong as 
love ? The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians 
that it never faileth. Let us look at it a little. If 
you love one another, you will honor one another, 
you will protect one another, you will do all you 
can to make one another happy. Then do n't you 
see how easy it will be to love God ? If you love 
him, you will keep his commandments, and be en- 
titled, according to his promise, to a long life upon 
earth, and in the world to come life everlasting. 

One of my little correspondents — Cora — says she 
knows the commandments by heart, and that there 
are ten of them. Won't she learn something when 
she gets our letter ? That is what we write for. It 
would be of no use, if information was not given. 
I think it is very well to commit a little Script- 
ure to memory every week, and think about it; 
strive to understand it, ask mother or some one 



66 Letters to the Children. 

else to explain, but do n't try to snow how many 
verses you can crowd into your little minds — it will 
do you no good. Take up the commandments, for 
instance, and read them one by one, and ask your- 
selves this question: " Do I know what that means? 
or am I like a parrot, that can say a great deal, but 
understand nothing?" 

I remember reading, a year or two ago, of a little 
boy who must have read them understanding^ — at 
least one of them. He was very ill. The doctors 
pronounced his case hopeless, and told his father 
and mother that he would die in a few hours. He 
was an intelligent and, I think, a religious boy. So 
his mother thought she would tell him what the 
doctors had said. She did so. The little fellow 
looked up and said : " Mamma, that can't be so." 
« "Why not, my boy ? " said his mother. " Because," 
said he, "God has said in the Bible, 'Honor thy 
father and thy mother, and thy days shall be long 
upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.' 
Now, you and papa know that I have obeyed and 
lionored you all my life, and I am only a little boy. 
The doctors are mistaken. God is not going to let 
me die now. I 'm going to live a long time." Here 
the conversation closed. In a short time reaction 
took place, the crisis was passed, and he lived to be 
a man. That boy's faith was as genuine and as 
effective with God as was that of those three men 
who were thrown into the white-hot furnace by a 
certain king a long time ago. I remember reading 
an account of it, and I think it is one of the most 
interesting and thrilling descriptions upon record. 



Letters to the Children. 67 

Hunt it up and read it carefully, and write me word 
where it is and what you think of it. 

But see here, I am spinning this thread too long, 
and must clip it. Yet I have not noticed the letters 
of Willie Nunn, Thomas Martin, Charlie, Mattie 
Harris, J. R, Elmore, Mary E.Witt, and Joe Willie, 
all of whom have written in a style that does them 
great credit. 

Since the above was written, I have received four 
more well- written and sensible little letters, from 

Lillie, A. E , Campbell, and Cordelia. Cordelia 

is a Cherokee Indian. She writes from Webber's 
Ealls, Cherokee Nation. One of my questions 
caused her and a friend of hers to read Proverbs, 
Ecclesiastes, and Solomon's Songs. She says she 
reads the Testament in school every day. I like 
the school where the Bible is read. To tell you the 
truth, I have not much use for any kind of an insti- 
tution that excludes that book. I want the word 
of God to have free course and be glorified. 

"By humility and the fear of the Lord are riches, and honor, and 
life." 



68 Letters to the Chilbren. 



LETTER XL 

Walk up and pitch in — That word "can't" — Yellow-backed 
novels — Book-sellers responsible — Self-help — Dr. Living- 
stone. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— When the time comes 
for me to begin my letter to you, every thing 
else has to give way. Indeed, this thing has he- 
come a part of my regular work; and while I never 
was fond of toil, yet, when it is to be done, I make 
it a rule never to parley, but walk up like a man 
and " pitch in." 

That 's the way I like to see people do. When 
they do that way something is going to be done. 
But show me a man, boy, or girl who stands off and 
begins to think how hard it is, and then says, " I 
do n't think I can do it — I almost know I can't," 
and I will allow you to use my name as authority 
for saying that if any thing around either of them 
amounting to much is ever accomplished, somebody 
else will have to do it. 

That word " can't," which you all hear and say 
so often, has gained more reputation than it is en- 
titled to. It is like a good many people who pass 
for more than they are worth. I always do what I 
can to discourage that sort of thing. 



Letters to the Children. 69 

Now, boys and girls, I want you to adopt my 
plan. When you have a hard lesson, or when pa 
and ma tell you to do any thing, never say, "I 
can't." Do n't let that ugly word come into life 
until every resource has been exhausted ; then when 
it has to come, clap your teeth on it and break its 
back. If you succeed, take my word for it, one of 
your strong enemies will be disabled. 

I have written you ten letters before this one, and 
in them I have made efforts to say something to 
interest and instruct you. I have touched upon 
different subjects, and dropped a hint or so here 
and there. I want this time to call your attention 
to the character of your reading. There is a grow- 
ing disposition among our little folks, and some not 
so little, to read wonderful stories, fairy-tales, and 
other volumes of trash with which the book-stores, 
parlor center-tables, and libraries abound, to the 
exclusion of almost every thing really valuable. I 
am sorry to know it. It is a bad sign. If I was a 
book-seller, I would be very careful about the char- 
acter of the books I sold. Everybody living in a 
community is responsible, to a greater or less ex- 
tent, for every bad thing that is done there. Every 
one of us exerts an influence for good or evil. The 
boy who has read one of those yellow-back novels, 
full of great big lies, telling how many lions a fellow 
eighteen years old killed with a walking-stick, or 
how many wild Indians he whipped with a ramrod, 
then goes to school thinking he is somebody, and 
concludes to distinguish himself by getting into a 
difficulty, and, as he says, "cleaning out" two or 



70 Letters to the Childeen. 

three of his school-mates, is exerting an evil influ- 
ence. The girl who has read a romance in which 
she was told of a wonderful female with golden 
tresses and sylph-like form, who rode a wild horse 
without any bridle, and made her escape through a 
wilderness from a band of highwaymen, or some 
other "yarn," and then spends the rest of the night, 
or it may be the rest of her life, dreaming and won- 
dering if some good fortune will not turn up, for- 
getting that she was created for a purpose, and that 
she should be preparing herself for filling her place 
in the world — that girl is exerting an evil influence. 

Now, children, avoid novels — do n't read them. 
There are so many books of a substantial kind, 
written for your benefit, that you can read every 
spare moment until you become old, and then you 
will not have read half of them. 

There is a little book just issued from our Pub- 
lishing House, written by Mr. Smiles, called " Self- 
help," that will interest you, if you will read it. I 
have just finished reading it myself, and I know 
more than I did before by a great deal. Some of 
the celebrated characters of the world in science,, 
literature, and art are talked about, showing what 
can be done by those who try. If you read the 
book, when you get to that part that speaks about 
the great missionary, Dr. Livingstone, I want you 
to read one passage particularly. It begins in the 
middle of the sixth line from the bottom, on page 
264, and ends with the thirteenth line on the next 
page. He was a factory-boy, and had to be at his 
loom every morning by six o'clock. With the first 



Letters to the Children. 71 

money earned lie bought books — one of them a 
Latin grammar. He would carry it with him to 
the mill and set it up before him on the spinning- 
jenny he worked, and as the machinery passed 
back and forth he would read his lesson. When 
he was not at work he improved his mind reading 
various books, and I see the writer was careful to 
put these two words in : " Except novels." I am 
glad he did it. He worked on, read on, studied on, 
until, like a great oak, he towered up in the world 
and cast his shade in every direction. His name 
will not die while men live to proclaim it. 

No boy or girl who is an habitual reader of fiction 
ever will be great. Such never can have a correct 
or satisfactory idea of life and its obligations. They 
go to swell that already large class of dissatisfied 
and disappointed loungers and grumblers who make 
the largest part of the trouble we have in the 
country. 

You may, perhaps, think I am talking too far 
ahead for children, but it is not so. I know you 
are to govern the country before long, and I want 
you to get ready for it. When I am old I want to 
see among the honorable names in the ministry, 
and in the records of the nation, some of those 
whose little letters I now have, and am going to 
keep among my relics until then. You need not 
think because your letters are not published that 
they are not highly appreciated, or that they are 
thrown aside. Not so. I prize them above any I 
get, and intend to keep them all. So you must not 
stop writing. • 



72 Letters to the Children. 

Even the editor said to me the other day, when I 
was telling him how well some of you wrote, that 
there were many of you that could write articles fit 
to publish. He did n't tell me to say any thing 
about it, but I thought I would just let you all 
know his opinion of you. 

How many of you can tell me what is the begin- 
ning of wisdom? 

". Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for 
there is no w«rk, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the 
grave, whither thou goest." 



* 

Letters to the Children. 73 



LETTER XII. 

Another Uncle Bob — The sermon — Leaving her religion at a 
boarding-school — Education without religion dangerous — 
Converted before they were twelve years old. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I rode several miles last 
Sunday week to hear " Uncle Bob " preach. I 
do n't mean myself, but another — a great big, tall 
man, with a round, full face, and a pretty little dim- 
ple in his right cheek. That makes him interest- 
ing, you know. 

The sermon was delivered on a commencement 
occasion at a female college, and consequently was 
adapted to young people. It was such a good ser- 
mon I wish you all could have heard it. I will give 
you the words of the text and let you hunt it up 
for yourselves: "Therefore, my beloved brethren, 
be ye steadfast, immovable, always abounding in 
the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that 
your labor is not in vain in the Lord." 

He began by saying that he took dinner at a cer- 
tain place not long ago, and toward the close of the 
meal, when the conversation was rather miscella- 
neous, he asked the gentleman to his right if he 
belonged to the Church. The gentleman replied, 
Yes. He then asked him if his wife was a member. 
4 



74 Letters to the Children. 

He said no — she left her religion at a hoarding- 
school. " Uncle Boh " dwelt upon this appropriate 
point awhile with fine effect. That was introduc- 
tory. 

The whole sermon was interesting and pointed, 
but there were three divisions I want to call your 
attention to more particularly: 1. Get religion. 2. 
Be filled with religious knowledge. 3. Always 
abound in the work of the Lord. 

By getting religion he meant being turned in 
heart, purpose, and life to Jesus. This is absolutely 
necessary for any kind of satisfactory success in life. 
It is the first step to be taken toward accomplishing* 
the great end of living; without it life's cares and 
responsibilities are burdensome, and often become 
intolerable. The Bible says : " Seek first the king- 
dom of God and his righteousness, and all these 
things shall be added unto you." Some people 
think that children cannot become religious, and 
hence never say any thing to them about it; and it 
is sometimes the case that children wonder at it, and 
reason about this way: If all are born in sin, I 
must be a sinner; if I am a sinner, I must repent. 
If these things are so, why is it that father, mother, 
and friends take no interest in my welfare? Some 
of our greatest men were converted to God before 
they were twelve years old — Bishop Andrew, Dr. 
Green, Bishop McTyeire, and a host of others I will 
not mention. These are enough for the present. The 
truth is, children, if you ever accomplish much you 
must begin early. Solomon, the wisest man, knew 
what he was talking about when he wrote the 



Letters to the Children. 75 

twelfth, chapter of Ecclesiastes, which "begins with 
these words : " Remember now thy Creator in the 
days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, 
nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I 
have no pleasure in them." 

After your little hearts and minds have been 
turned to Jesus, then you must be filled with relig- 
ious knowledge; you must not only read books 
which tell about God and his government, the phi- 
losophy of religion, and all that, but you must read 
and study the Bible. That is the fountain, and if 
you want pure truth, there is where it must be 
sought. The Bible teaches you all about your 
bodies; it tells you how you are to keep them. It 
tells you all about your hearts; how deceitful and 
wicked they are. It tells you a great deal about 
your souls, their value, their immortality, and the 
great price that has been paid for their redemption. 
It tells you about Christ, your Saviour, his life, his 
death on the cross, his resurrection from the grave, 
his ascension into heaven, and his coming again at 
the end of the world. It tells you about heaven r 
about the sun, moon, and stars; about the earth y 
what is to become of it; about the sea, and sea- 
monsters ; about earthquakes, storms and tempests, 
rain and hail, fire and snow, horses and cattle. In 
fact, it tells you about every thing. It is the only 
book that contains every thing. Whoever reads 
and studies it with a prayerful heart will know 
something about all that is worth knowing. 

Then, besides all that, there is a necessary "con- 
comitant/' Hear it: Always abound in the work 



76 Letters to the Children. 

of the Lord. Nothing gives as much satisfaction 
at the close of the day as the thought, I have been 
abundant in labors to-day ; I have tried to do my 
duty; I have been careful not to offend by word or 
deed; I have done offices of kindness; I have en- 
couraged the despondent; I have helped the needy; 
I have visited the sick; I have tried my best to 
overcome pride and vanity ; I have fought against 
my prejudices; I have subdued anger; I have en- 
couraged and exercised broad and liberal views ; I 
have been willing to give everybody a chance; I 
have been polite ; I have shown special kindness to 
inferiors ; I have taken no advantage of the neces- 
sities of others. I have thought of my responsi- 
bility to God, and about the time when I shall give 
account of myself to him ; I have been faithful to 
all trusts committed to me ; I have been diligent in 
business. In a word, I have striven to work out 
my salvation. All that is what I would call abound- 
ing in the work of the Lord. 

Now, my dear children, I want you to think over 
what I have written, and if you ever go to a board- 
ing-school, don't leave your religion there when 
you come away. The community must needs watch 
& highly educated young man or woman without 
the fear of God. He or she is dangerous. With 
religion, either might be compared to a large, sub- 
stantial, and elegantly finished steam-engine, with 
plenty of steam, and a competent and faithful en- 
gineer, and while it dashes fearfully along, looking 
as if it might have come from the infernal regions, 
people are not afraid as long as they know that true 



Letters to the Children. 77 

man stands at his post, with hand npon the throt- 
tle; because he understands his business, he has 
every thing in subjection, and can transport his 
tons of freight and thousands of passengers in per- 
fect safety. It is just so with the fear of God and 
learning. I don't care how much you know, if 
you are religious — the more the better. 

Since writing the above, my anonymous corre- 
spondent, Flora C. M , who resides near Water- 
ford, Miss., has written another letter, now before 
me. She is still anxious to know who I am, and 
comes a little nearer telling me who she is, but not 
exactly. I shall have to get " Uncle Tuggle" to tell 
me. Here is what she says : 

I live four miles south-west of Waterford, Miss. If the 
chickens don't crow, the guineas will be sure to hollow "cir- 
cuit-rider" when they see you coming. Now, Uncle Bob, if 
you do n't tell me who you are, I intend to ask Uncle Tuggle, 
for he comes to our house sometimes. Give my love to Aunt 
Bob and all the little Bobs. Yours affectionately, 

Flora C. M . 

Another of my little friends wants me to tell her 
who wrote the book of Ecclesiastes. I will say 
something on that subject next time. 

" Wisdom is the principal thing ; therefore get wisdom ; and with 
all thy getting get understanding. Exalt her, and she shall pro- 
mote thee ; she shall bring thee to honor, when thou dost embrace 
her." 



78 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XIII. 

Mistaken in his man — Pippin apples — The old saddle-bags — 
The break of day — Who the preacher was — Legh Kich- 
mond. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— I think, as a general 
rule, apologies are poor things, but sometimes 
they are due and should be made. In view of what 
I am going to write this week, it would be proper 
for me to make an apology to you; hence I will 
make it. Pardon me, then, for the style and matter 
•of this letter. I would not write thus if a couple 
of questions had not been asked which, in my judg- 
ment, seem to require it. I am inclined to the 
opinion that much older heads suggested and framed 
them than those whose names and ages they bear. 
However, a few things in regard to them may be 
profitable to us all. Men and women are children, 
only of larger growth, that 's all. 

The first question is asked by my little friend 
"Johnnie," ' way over yonder at Bentonville, Ark. 
After writing a long and interesting letter, telling 
me the meaning of that big word, " indelibly," and 
where to find the account I alluded to some weeks 
since, in regard to those three men and that furnace, 
and how long the Western Methodist, some years ago 
the Memphis and Arkansas Christian Advocate, has 



Letters to the Children. 79 

been a regular visitor at his father's home, he says 
that he thinks he gave me some pippin apples last 
year at Conference, also one apiece for the children, 
and that I had about as many as I could well carry 
when each child's name was reported. My little 
friend is mistaken in his man. I never was at Ben- 
tonville. He never gave me any pippin apples ; but 
I will say this: whoever it was that did get the 
apples has nothing to boast of over me when it 
comes to children; and I will now notify Johnnie 
that if he expects to send one apiece all round next 
fall, his mother will have to " do up " his father's 
shirt in paper, because the old saddle - bags will 
be full. 

But the question. Johnnie wants me to tell him 
the meaning of the words, "Aijeleth Shahar," which 
occur in the beginning of the 22d Psalm. 

I would remark first, that the words are Hebrew, 
and supposed to be the title of that writing. The 
first word, literally, means a hind — a female deer; 
the second is derived from a word which means to 
cleave, split, break. Hence the translators and other 
Bible critics have rendered it the dawn. When we 
see the first gray streaks of light shooting up all 
along the horizon, breaking, cleaving, or splitting 
the darkness, we say the dawn appears — day is 
breaking. In view of these facts, the commonly- 
received opinion is that the words, taken together, 
mean " the hind of the morning," although it must 
be confessed the matter involves critical uncertainty. 
Tne Eev. W. L. Bevan, in " Smith's Dictionary," 
thinks it probably refers to a tune of that name, like 



80 Letters to the Children. 

Arlington, Shirland, Old Hundred, and others, in our 
day. It is a matter, however, of small importance. 
The psalm itself, depicting as it does the deep dis- 
tress and agony of soul of the subject — Christ — all 
on account of man's transgression, is what should 
more particularly engage our thought. 

I have no objection, however, to your asking 
such questions. I will always take pleasure in 
giving you the result of my investigations. I have 
my Hebrew Bible, Lexicon, and other books of 
reference quite convenient. 

Another of my correspondents, " Sallie Kit," wants 
to know who wrote the book of Ecclesiastes. 

The word " koheleth" — meaning preacher — intro- 
duces the book in the Hebrew Scriptures. It comes 
from another word, " kahal," which signifies to con- 
voke, or call together. The words which follow, or 
the subject-matter of the book, is what the preacher 
said, and is denominated " words of the preacher, 
son of David, king in Jerusalem." The preacher 
was king himself. This would be sufficient to fix 
the authorship; but we need not depend entirely on 
it, for other evidences are abundant throughout the 
book to fix it upon Solomon. You know the Lord 
had said that Solomon was to be the wisest man 
that had lived or ever would live. He was also to 
be exceeding rich. I will now quote a few passages 
from the book itself, which it seems to me would 
be applicable to no one else. First, then, in chap- 
ter i., verse 16 : "I communed with mine own heart, 
saying, Lo, I am come to great estate, and have 
gotten more wisdom than all they that have been 



Letters to the Children. 81 

before me in Jerusalem." Again, in chapter ii., 
4-10 : " I made me great works ; I builded me 
houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gar- 
dens and orchards, and planted trees in them of all 
kinds of fruits ; . . . I had great possessions 
of great and small cattle above all that were in 
Jerusalem before me; I got me men-singers and 
women-singers; . . . also musical instruments 
of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more 
than all that were before me in Jerusalem ; also my 
wisdom remained with me." Again, who ever had 
greater reason to utter that sad complaint recorded 
in the 7th chapter and 26th verse? Then, those 
words in the 9th and 10th verses of the last chapter 
could belong to none but him : "And moreover, 
because the preacher was wise, he still taught the 
people knowledge ; yea, he gave good heed, sought 
out, and set in order many proverbs. The preacher 
sought to find out acceptable words ; and that which 
was written was upright, even words of truth." 
Hence, says Mr. Benson, the book has been as- 
cribed to Solomon, and most justly, by the far 
greater part of interpreters, both Jewish and Chris- 
tian. In many respects it is a remarkable book, 
and contains much that it would be well for us all 
to ponder, especially the conclusion. For all who 
are to become teachers, for all who are tangled with 
the controversies of the present, there are no better 
words to be remembered, viewed in relation to their 
immediate application. "Let us hear the conclu- 
sion of the whole matter : Fear God and keep his 
commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. 
4* 



82 Letters to the Children. 

For God shall bring every work into judgment, with, 
every secret thing, whether it be good or whether 
it be evil." 

'Now, children, this letter is longer than you may 
like; but I do not feel satisfied unless I can throw 
in something worth remembering. You who have 
living parents do not appreciate their value as you 
will after they shall have gone ; consequently I feel 
that it is quite pertinent frequently to remind you 
of your duty. If you want to spare yourselves 
days, and it may be years, of sadness, take care 
how you treat father and mother. In my reading 
the other day, when I had a few spare moments, I 
came across this little piece, said to have been writ- 
ten by Legh Richmond. If you forget all else in 
this letter, try and remember this ; cut it out and 
paste it in your hats. Here it is : 

If you perceive that any thing in your ways makes your 
parents unhappy, you ought to have no peace until you have 
corrected it ; and if you find yourself indifferent or insensible 
to their will and wishes, depend upon it yours is a carnal, 
disobedient, ungrateful heart. If you love them, keep their 
commandments ; otherwise love is a mere word in the mouth, 
or a notion in the fancy, but not a ruling principle in the 
heart. They know much of the world, you very little ; trust 
them, therefore, when they differ from you, and refuse com- 
pliance with your desire. They watch over you for Grod, and 
are entitled to great deference and cheerful obedience. You 
may easily shorten the lives of affectionate and conscientious 
parents by misconduct, bad tempers, and alienation from their 
injunctions. Let not this sin be laid to your charge. 

" Every good gift and every perfect gift is fr,om above, and cometh 
down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, 
neither shadow of turning." 






Letters to the Children. 83 



LETTER XIV. 

The standing collar — The miller — How I got on the right side 
of him — The split top — The kite season — Mary Jane — Go- 
ing to church — The council of war — Come out of those 
sideboards. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I am quite unwell this 
week — something is wrong about my right 
-ear. If it were not so great a pleasure for me to 
hold converse with you in this way, and if I was 
sure that you would not feel disappointed, I would 
not write. But so many letters have come begging 
me to continue writing, that I feel constrained to 
drop you a few lines any way. You will remember 
that I promised a week or so ago to say something 
about my first experience with a standing collar. 
My young friend, L. B. Erayser, near Richmond, 
Va., wrote me a good letter last week, and calls my 
attention to the promise, and says he was impatient 
to hear about " Snug." For fear he may become 
more so about the collar, I think I had better tell 
about it now. 

The fashionable world is like a great wheel, such 
as they have at the back part of grist-mills in the 
country. You know that they are huge, and have 
hoxes in place of paddles. I believe the millers 



84 Letters to the Children. 

call them buckets. The water, rushing over the 
wheel, fills these buckets, and makes it revolve, or 
turn. You may go into the mill, and every thing 
is in motion, and unless you are better informed 
than I was when a boy, you will be puzzled to know 
what causes it. I was not long in finding out, you 
may be sure. I always was very curious to find out 
things, and the reason of them, and when I didn't 
know I asked. I used to watch the countenance of 
the old gentleman that kept the mill where I used 
to go, and I could tell exactly when to stop inter- 
rogating him. I used to study how to keep him in 
a good humor with me. I found that good behavior, 
mixed with some nice apples, cherries, or a bunch 
of flowers, worked like a charm. But it is due to 
him to say that good manners — acting the gentle- 
man — went farther with him than any thing else. 
It seemed to me that he would take more pains to 
adjust the bag on "Snug's" back for me than for 
other folks. He used to carry me around and ex- 
plain things. By this means I soon understood 
matters; and since I have become a man I have 
compared myself and other people to a mill. My 
outer body is the building, all the inner apparatus 
the machinery. My will is the great wheel ; health 
and strength furnish my will with power to control 
the operations of, not only my body, but my mind. 
So you see that all human beings have the elements 
within them which constituted them, originally, 
moral and free agents. Thus you see everybody is 
responsible for his or her actions. 

But you will no doubt be wondering what all 






Letters to the Children. 85 

that has to do with the collar. You know when 
the wheel of which I spoke begins to turn, one box 
goes down and another comes up. It is just so 
with the fashions — they come in, have a short run, 
and are over. In fact, this thing we call fashion 
seems to run through all circles, specially in cities. 
It goes down even to the boys and girls — instead 
of calling it fashion, they have seasons. For in- 
stance : there is the marble season, when every boy 
is almost beside himself about marbles. He can 
discourse admirably about how many agates, stripes, 
whites, bull-eyes, etc., he has. Soon this fashion or 
season passes, and is followed by the top season. 
Every boy has a top, and you may see ten or a dozen 
of them make a great ring right in the way on the 
street, and begin a game they call " plugging/' One 
lays his top in the middle of the ring, and the oth- 
ers wind up theirs and throw at it, and it is some- 
times the case that a little fellow, that don't know 
as much as the rest about such things, lays his top 
down and gets it split, or otherwise ruined. He 
goes home with a heavy heart, but he is wiser. He 
has been buying knowledge. Then comes the kite 
season, the hoop season, and so on. 

The changes in wearing apparel, with a few ex- 
ceptions, are about the same. It has been so ever 
since I could remember, and I suppose will continue. 

People love to follow the fashion generally, and 
those few who do not, consider themselves about 
out of the world. Many times when pa's purse is 
low, and he insists that the last-year's bonnet is nice 
enough, Mary Jane begins to pout, and says : " Why, 



86 Letters to the Children. 

la ! that old tiling has gone out of fashion several 
months ago." Pa says: "Well, daughter, it costs 
too much to keep up with these things; I can/t 
afford it." Then comes the all-prevailing argument 
from Mary Jane : " One might as well he out of the 
world as out of the fashion." I have sometimes 
thought that some young girls, and their mothers 
too, would rather embarrass the father all through 
life than not keep up with that intolerable bore 
called fashion, style, etc. I trust, however, that my 
little readers will not follow in the track of such 
people. 

Remember that it is not the clothes that consti- 
tute the man or woman, but a cultivated, refined,, 
well-informed mind. "Well, now for the collar. 

"George" and I were great cronies, you know. 
We lived near a village where there were a great 
many girls. We used to go to preaching there 
sometimes, and then go home with somebody. We 
felt like we Were men. Standing collars were then 
in general use. "George" and I were "hurtin'" 
to put them on, but we felt ashamed, and more than 
once we started from home determined to make our 
debut in town with them; but no matter how we ar- 
gued as to the right we had to wear them, and that 
we didn't care for anybody, and that we looked as 
well in them as the most of folks did, and all that, 
our courage generally failed just as we reached the 
last big tree before getting into town. Here we 
stopped and held a council of war. George thought 
he would go it any way. I came to the conclusion 
that we were a little ahead of time, and proposed 



Letters to the Children. 87 

to put the matter off just one more week. I think 
that was a great relief to George, and although he 
made out that it wasn't, his collar was about the 
first that was turned down. If I remember right, 
the next time, starting with our standing collars 
on, we managed to get to the church with every 
thing in "statu quo," but somehow or other we 
couldn't get in. Some mischievous boy would cry 
out, " Come out of those sideboards," and as we 
were anxious to do so anyway, a suggestion of that 
sort was all that was necessary. We came out about 
as soon as we could run our fingers around our 
necks. "We kept on trying, however, and at last 
we made it — and to-day I am wearing a " standing 
collar." 

Now, boys and girls, if you want to do any thing, 
just make up your mind to do it — keep at it, and 
you will succeed. If a boy will begin to drink, and 
keep at it, he will make a first-class sot in a few 
years. If he will begin to lie, steal, and be disobe- 
dient to his parents, and keep at those things, he 
will make a deep-dyed criminal, and if he misses 
the gallows he will come to some other violent end, 
and that, too, before a long time. Cultivate the 
good that is in you, children, and crush out the 
evil. I know it is a fight, but the consolation is, 
you will be sure to win the day if you undertake 
the work in the fear of God. Pa and ma will ex- 
plain that part of this letter that you do not com- 
prehend — ask them to do it for me. 

I have received many interesting letters this week 
— another from Cordelia, the Indian girl. She is 



88 Letters to the Children. 

vastly mistaken if she thinks I do not claim kin 
with her. I claim kin with everybody, but the 
actions of many ofttimes make me wish I wasn't 
kin to them. 

"A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast." 



Letters to the Children. 






LETTER XV. 

Flashing and sizzin' — A million dollars — The phlebotomists — 
A bee-line — No excuse. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— I did n't get much sleep 
last night, because yesterday was the glorious 
old Fourth of July, and I found the boys something 
like I used to be — fond of shooting fire-crackers, 
" spittin'-devils," sky-rockets, chases, and the like — 
and they kept it up until a late hour. I have long 
since lost all taste for such things, and to have them 
popping, flashing, and sizzin' around me to so great 
an extent " sorter " frets me, and makes me wonder 
why the boys do n't save their money to buy some- 
thing that will last and be useful. I have no doubt 
a million dollars were spent yesterday in the United 
States in celebrating what is called " Independence," 
a something that does not exist. 

Suppose that money had been spent in doing 
good, how much could have been done? One hun- 
dred churches, worth ten thousand dollars each, 
capable of accommodating fifty thousand people at 
preaching and one hundred thousand children at 
Sunday-school; or it would have endowed a uni- 
versity, where generation after generation could be 



90 Letters to the Children. 

educated; or it would have built a work-house^ 
something that should be in every city — a place 
where all the street-beggars, and others without 
employment, could be placed and made useful ; also 
an asylum for drunkards. 

But no doubt you will say, " Uncle Bob is an old 
fogy, and we young folks must sow our wild oats 
before we can think of such things as he is talking 
about." Let me tell you what the Apostle Paul 
said about that thing of sowing, not only wild oats, 
but every thing else. I will not tell you where it can 
be found, but leave you to hunt it up and report to 
me by letter. Here it is : " Be not deceived : . God 
is not mocked ; for whatsoever a man soweth, that 
shall he also reap." So you see sowing is not all 
that you will have to do ; you will have to reap. 
Now, I want the young folks to sow such things, 
and in such a way as that they will not be ashamed 
of the crop when they go to reap. 

Another reason why I did not sleep . was, the 
" phlebotomists " (another big word) were after me 
in force. I do n't mean bed-bugs, because I was 
at home, and my wife considers it a part of her 
religious duty to examine the beds every morning. 
She says she does not think there is any excuse for 
the residence of such garotters, as Josh Billings 
calls them, in a house where there is even one 
woman. I know she is sensible, and I do not hesi- 
tate to indorse what she says. 

Those that were after me are called mosquitoes r 
and you know they are on the wing and can't be 
controlled. The only way you can get rid of them 



Letters to the Children. 91- 

is to get under a bar. "We have n't put ours up 
yet, so I was kept busy slapping and fanning the 
most of the night. 

Did you ever think how annoying a little thing 
could be ? I remember the time when one bald- 
faced hornet could whip me in less time than you 
could say " Jack Robinson." I have stirred their 
nest before now, and have seen an old fellow start 
for me fifty yards off. He would come tolerably 
straight, I thought, and would pop me on the fore- 
head, or on the temple, and then fly off, as if he 
had done something smart — as much as to say, 
" There now, you take that, and let me alone." 
Generally I acted upon the suggestion — at least for 
a time. I have wondered since if the expression^ 
" a bee-line," did not have its origin in a circum- 
stance of that sort. "Who knows ? 

Well, here I am with a pile of letters before me 
from the children, about as thick through as fifty 
Sunday-school Visitors. Each one interests me, and 
if there were not so many, and so much, I would 
have them published. Two young ladies living in 
Texas write on the subject of painting and powder- 
ing, and say they never expect to do any more of 
it. They are sensible, willing to be governed by 
reason, and will be sure to- make ornaments in so- 
ciety. Then there is one- from Mary E. Hagler, a 
thoughtful girl. She says I must write for at least 
twenty thousand children every week, and that one- 
copy of the paper goes to her father's house and is* 
read by seven or eight ; so, if we count five readers 
to each paper, over thirty thousand read my letters^ 



92 Letters to the Children. 

That startles me, and suggests that I should be very- 
careful what I write. O if I can only induce some 
of those thirty thousand to do good ! Yes, if I can 
make one good impression on them, how much I 
will have accomplished ! I shall be paid in full for 
all it cost me. I am trying to sow seed that will 
come up in eternity, if not before. 

This is a scattering letter, I know; but, rather 
than disappoint you altogether, I will let it go. 

" But to do good and to communicate forget not : for with such. 
sacrifices God is well pleased." 



Letters to the Children. 93< 



LETTER XVI. 

Death of Charlie Baird — His letter — More little graves than 
large — "God moves in a mysterious way." 

DEAK CHILDREN":— If you will look among 
the obituaries in last week's paper, you will 
find one signed " John S. McGowan." It concerns 
the sudden death of Charlie T. Baird, one of my 
readers; and, although I never saw him or heard 
of him until after his death, I was made to feel very 
sad under the circumstances. It seems that he had 
been very much interested in my letters, and had 
written one to me, which he designed mailing the 
day he was drowned. It has been sent to me by 
his father, and as it is perhaps the first and the last 
he ever wrote while in the flesh, I will insert it 
just here : 

Dear Uncle Bob : — I have been thinking for some time I 
would write you a letter. I live near New Castle, in the 
bounds of the Whiteville Circuit. My pa is a subscriber to 
the Western Methodist, and has been for some time. I get im 
patient waiting, sometimes, for the next number, so anxious 
I am to read your letters, and also those of the little boys and 
girls. In your letter No. 11, at the conclusion, you asked how 
many could tell you the beginning of wisdom. " The fear of 
the Lord is the beginning of wisdom ; a good understanding 



$4 Letters to the Children. 

have all they that do his commandments ; his praise endureth 
forever." You will find it in the Psalms — cxi. 10. I think I 
know who "Uncle Bob" is. Am I not right in saying he 

Is — ■ ? I am fourteen years old, and have n't had the 

.school privileges of many of your little writers. 

Charlie T. Baird. 

Brother McGowan says lie was truly an amia- 
ble character. He was affectionate and obedient. 
Truthfulness was a prominent trait in his character. 
There was no discount on Charlie's word. He 
attended Sunday-school, and was a member of the 
Bible-class. His father is a doctor, and hence has 
to be away from home a great deal. Charlie at- 
tended to the business pertaining to home matters 
like a man. Considering these features of superi- 
ority, is it strange that everybody that knew him 
admired him, and that he should have entwined 
himself around the hearts of his parents ? 

I know it is hard to give up such a son ; but O 
how large the field for consolation ! He was just 
the boy to die ; he will help to swell that already 
large number that make the life beyond so happy 
and desirable. 

We have, as a general thing, false views in regard 
to what we call death. We feel and act as if it was 
the end; and often we hear the expression, "0 1 
shall never see my dear child again ! " We forget 
that life is a warfare, and that every step therein is 
a hand-to-hand conflict; and that often we are 
standing guard at very dangerous points, where 
sharpshooters are on the alert, anxious to destroy 
us. We forget that life is a preparation state for 



Letters to the Children. • 95 

the development of those elements of character 
necessary to the proper appreciation of the rela- 
tions of the other life. "We forget that it is a 
school, and that it do n't take every scholar jnst 
so many years to graduate. We forget that not 
even the little sparrows, so thick in some parts of 
the old country that there are organized clubs to 
kill them, do not fall without the notice of God ; and 
that the very hairs of our heads are all numbered. 

But, says one, you wrote us some weeks ago that 
a character such as Charlie is described to have 
been has a guarantee of long life. Yes, I did ; and 
it is true. It is the rule God has made ; but often, 
for wise purposes, an exception is introduced that 
in no wise conflicts, when understood. For in- 
stance, when Christ turned the water into wine at 
that marriage in Cana of Galilee, it was contrary to 
all established natural law then or now known. 
Nevertheless, he did it. When he called the putre- 
fying body of Lazarus from the grave; when he 
met the sorrow-stricken widow of ISTain going out 
to bury her son, and stopped the procession and 
said, " Young man, I say unto thee, Arise ; and he 
that was dead sat up and began to speak;" when 
he fed five thousand men, besides women and chil- 
dren, with five loaves and two fishes, and, after all 
were satisfied, the fragments filled twelve baskets — ■ 
these and numerous other things, called miracles, 
were all contrary to the laws of nature, as we un- 
derstand them. Nevertheless, Jesus did them; and 
O how valuable and comforting they have been to 
millions of poor, distressed human hearts ! 



96 Letters to the Children. 

"We should never lose sight of the fact that all we 
have and are is under the eye of a God who is too 
wise to err and too good to do wrong. It is often 
the case, as the poet expresses it : 

God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 



Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
And scan his work in vain ; 

G-od is his own interpreter, 
And he will make it plain. 



Dear children, death lurks in every flower; and 
while it is generally understood that the old must 
die, the fact that over half of the entire human 
family do not live to he over seven years old seems 
to be overlooked. I had occasion to go to "the 
city of the dead " a few days ago, and while there 
I meditated a little upon this subject, and then 
thought I would notice the graves. There were 
different lengths — more short than long, however; 
so my conclusion was that the greater part of all 
who sleep there are safe. Many were " taken from 
the evil to come;" others had fought a good fight 
and were ready to be offered. 

When I see a child lowered in the grave, I think 
about how much it has escaped — how much temp- 
tation, how much uneasiness, how much trial, how 
many conflicts, how much disappointment, how 
many failures, how many missteps; then, on the 
other hand, how much it has gained — the society 



Lettees to the Children. 97 

of- the just made perfect, an exemption from sick- 
ness and sorrow, and a thousand other ills to which 
flesh is heir! Then I thank God for his goodness 
and for his wonderful works to the children of men. 

The lesson to be learned, my dear children, by 
Charlie's sudden death, is the importance of living 
so that death cannot surprise us, although it come 
as a thief in the night. Stand by the truth. Have 
a firm and fixed belief that God sent you into this 
world for a purpose, and let the fulfilling of that 
purpose be your constant study. Do n't be cowards, 
and desert your posts until the relief guard, with 
authority from head-quarters, relieves you from duty. 
Remember you are on trial, and God has declared 
that you shall not be tempted beyond what you are 
able to bear. " Who is he that will harm you, if 
ye be followers of that which is good ? " 

This letter is, perhaps, beyond the comprehension 
of many of you, yet there is much of it you can 
understand, with a little explanation. Ask your 
mother to read it with you this week ; next time I 
will try and do better. 

"As for man, his days are as grass ; as a flower of the field, so he 
flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone ; and the 
place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the Lord is 
from everlasting to everlasting npon them that fear him, and his 
righteousness unto children's children." • 



S8 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XVII. 

•Getting into trouble — Tattlers — Got a thrashing — The Jones 
boys — Jeremiah Snodgrass — Fat hogs — Adolphus Crook- 
shanks. 

DEAR CHILDREN : —I am very fond of reading 
the fifteenth chapter of Paul's first letter to the 
Corinthians. Every time I read it I think I under- 
stand "better what the great apostle teaches. The 
thirty-third verse has been ringing in my ears, and 
as it contains so much in a few words, and should 
be deeply impressed upon the mind of every one of 
;my dear young friends, I will quote it: "Be not de- 
ceived; evil communications corrupt good manners." 
The truth of that declaration has been verified in 
thousands of instances. Many a boy and girl has 
fallen into serious trouble by associating with evil 
companions. 

I remember when I was a boy of a difficulty I 
was once drawn into, and all by reason of bad com- 
pany. Many of the boys and young men with 
whom I was acquainted were very wicked. They 
swore, told lies, chewed tobacco, and were guilty of 
other bad habits. I partook more or less of these, 
and tried to imitate them in chewing tobacco and 
swearing. 






Letters to the Children. 99 

Fortunately for me I had several sisters, and they 
seemed to think they were in duty bound to tell 
-every thing they knew on each other, and " me too." 
I never did like tattlers — do n't like to hear broth- 
ers and sisters telling ma and pa of every little in- 
discretion, and sometimes adding more to it, just to 
get somebody a whipping. It shows a bad spirit — 
one that should be crushed. But when matters as 
serious as some that concerned me, and that are 
prevalent in this day as well, come to the knowl- 
edge of brother or sister, the fact should be . com- 
municated at once to father and mother. 

My elder sister was faithful in this respect. One 
day when she was present I thoughtlessly uttered 
.an oath. It shocked her refined sensibilities, and 
the first thing I heard was: "isTever mind, young 
man, I'll tell father." That was enough for me. 
I knew what the result would be. I begged and 
pleaded with her, but it was of no use ; she was as 
firm and as cold as a philosopher. Father detested 
wickedness in all its forms, and had no compromise 
to make with it; hence I knew it would go hard 
with me. 

Father was teaching the school at that time to 
which we were going, and there was a " full house." 
He called me up in the presence of all, and took 
special care to have every one understand fully the 
nature of the case. I did not know then why he 
pursued that course. I wondered why he did not 
take me in a retired place to myself and settle with 
me there; but he had another end to serve, which is 
plain to me now, and which was wise in him. Other 



100 Letters to the Children. 

boys were there, and he wanted to make an exam- 
ple of me for their benefit. I think the manner in 
which he disposed of the case made an impression 
upon the mind of every one present that is remem- 
bered to this day. He gave me what might be 
called a sound " lambasting" — -just what he should 
have done. I promised to abandon the ugly, wicked, 
and ungentlemanly practice, and I did it; and to- 
day, boys, I cannot hear a man or boy swear with- 
out feeling like giving expression to a groan and 
sentiment of pity. I always doubt the truthfulness 
and sincerity of any one who presumes to strengthen 
argument by swearing. 

Another thing : You will find in passing through 
the world a pretty large class of "busy-bodies in 
other men's matters." I believe the polite, or rather 
the fashionable, manner of designating them now 
is, "persons of an inquiring turn of mind;" or, in 
other words, they have curiosity fully developed. 
This manner of expression, I suppose, was adopted 
to take off the edge as much as possible from the 
apostle's manner of expressing the same thing. 
When you go from home, it is sometimes the case 
that you happen among one or more of these char- 
acters, and at once the inquisitors begin. They 
want to know how your father and mother get 
along, whether your mother's servants are hard to 
manage, or whether your step-mother treats you 
mean, and if your father allows you to play with 
the Jones boys, and if you do not think the Brown 
girls are slovens, and not the company exactly for 
you ; how many new dresses your mother has bought 



Letters to the Children. 101 

this spring, and whether father makes a fuss when 
she asks him for money ; or if your sister Mary is 
agoing to marry John Shackelford, and how you 
would like to have him for a hrother-in-law, and if 
you knew he had false teeth, and wears a wig; and 
if you do n't mind you will tell what you had for 
breakfast, dinner, and supper for the past week, and 
bow it was cooked ! Yes, children, there are per- 
sons of that sort. Be on your guard, therefore, 
when you hear any one asking servants or children 
questions, such as I have enumerated. Think of 
the thirty-third verse quoted in the outset. Father 
read to me about twenty years ago a scrap from a 
newspaper, that is just here in point. 

It seems there was a boy who, for convenience, 
I will call Jeremiah Snodgrass. He carried his 
father's grist to a mill where there was one of those 
•"busy-bodies," or inquisitive persons, sayAdolphus 
•Crookshanks, acting the miller. ~No sooner did the 
said Jeremiah get fairly into the mill than did the 
said Crookshanks begin his interrogatories. Jere- 
miah was determined that he would communicate 
nothing. So, in answer to every question he would 
say, "I don't know." Crookshanks was of an "in- 
quiring turn of mind," and tried every way to " draw 
Jeremiah out," but it was " no go." Finally his pa- 
tience gave out, and he angrily said to Jerry, ""What 
do you know?" They were both near the door, 
where there were some fine swine. Jerry answered 
promptly, " I know that millers keep fat hogs." He 
then was silent again. Crookshanks paused a few 
moments — a long time for him ; but he had received 



102 Letters to the Children. 

a shock, and I suppose couldn't help it. He recov- 
ered, however, and in the same tone as before said',, 
"What don't you know?" "I don't know whose 
corn they feed them on," was the dry and prompt 
response of Jerry. Our miller subsided, and I have 
never heard of him since, except through his rela^ 
tives, who are scattered all over this country. 

" He that keepeth his mouth keepeth his life ; but he that open*- 
eth wide his lips, shall have destruction." 



Letters to the Children. 103 



LETTER XVIII. 

Waiting for something to turn up — "Greenleaf s Grammar" 
— The twenty-dollar gold-piece — I was induced to hang on. 

"pwEAR CHILDREN:— I know nothing but 
-X-J what I have learned. Some things I learned 
from books, some by observation, and some by ex- 
perience. All I know has been attained by effort. 
Whatever is accomplished in this world, of conse- 
quence, is the result of diligence and labor. Every 
attainment costs so much, and there is no varying 
in the price. The law which regulates in this de- 
partment is subject to no suspension. 

I write thus because there is a large class of 
people that forget these facts; old men and women, 
young men and girls, are among the number. They 
are those " sit - still, do - nothing, clever, good-for- 
nothing folks" who are always waiting and hoping 
for the " good time that 's coming." In other words, 
they are waiting for something to turn up, instead 
of laying hold and by earnest effort developing their 
capacity. 

A great many people are utterly ignorant of their 
resources. "What they could do would astonish 
themselves, if they would only put forth effort 



104 Letters to the Children. 

enough, to find out. How many illustrious exam- 
ples of this truth I could mention ! As I am read- 
ing again that book I called your attention to in a 
former letter — "Self-help" — and as the items I 
wish in this connection to use are so full and con- 
veniently arranged, I will make an extract: 

Take, for instance, the remarkable fact that from the bar- 
ber's shop came Jeremy Taylor, the most poetical of divines ; 
Sir Richard Arkwright, the inventor of the spinning-jenny 
and founder of cotton manufacture ; Lord Tenterden, one of 
the most distinguished of chief -justices; and Turner, tho 
greatest of landscape-painters. Shakspeare, whose mind wa* 
one of the most wonderful that ever shone in the world, is 
supposed to have been a wool - comber ; his father was a 
butcher. Then from the common class of day-laborers came 
Brindley, the engineer ; Cook, the navigator ; Burns, the 
poet; Ben Jonson, who worked at the building of Lincoln's 
Inn with a trowel in his hand and a book in his pocket; 
Hugh Miller, the geologist; Harrison, the chronometer- 
maker; and John Gibson, the sculptor. From the tailors 
came John Stowe, the historian; Jackson, the painter; Ad- 
miral Hobson; and Andrew Johnson, ex -President of the 
United States. The great John Bunyan was a tinker ; Hunt- 
ingdon, the preacher, was a coal-heaver; Bewick, the father 
of wood-engraving, was a coal-miner; Baffin, the navigator 
who discovered Baffin's Bay, that you all learned of in your 
geography, began his sea-faring career as a man before the 
mast. 

So, you see, the great and the good — those who 
have helped forward the ages in science, literature, 
and art — were "not born with a silver spoon in 
their mouths," but came from the "rank and file;" 
and by dint of labor, patience, perseverance, and 
energy, raised themselves to posts of honor and dis- 
tinction, and have had their names pass into history, 



Letters to the Children. 105 

written upon the records of time's doings, and, after 
.ages more shall have passed, there they will stand, 
as if " graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock 
forever." 

The foregoing examples are for your encourage- 
ment. 

I know how easily some falter and even faint by 
the way in the acquirement of education, charac- 
ter, etc. 

I remember well when I was a boy how anxious 
my father was for me to learn. He was self-edu- 
cated, and consequently felt more keenly the neces- 
sity of it. He often talked with me about his early 
life, and how he had to do. He generally had a 
task assigned him for the day — say a cord of wood 
to cut. He would work briskly, get through, and 
then find an old tree that had blown down, leaving 
& large hole at the roots. The winds carry leaves 
into all such places, making them very pleasant for 
•a cold day. "In one of these cozy little nests," said 
he, " I have studied many a lesson." His parents 
were poor, and could not afford him light at night; 
so he would get down " on all-fours " before the 
tire. In this way he mastered a great deal, became 
educated, and taught others. 

He was anxious for me to become a good gram- 
miarian. He once bought Greenleaf's large atlas- 
shaped grammar for me, and told me if I would 
master it he would give me a twenty-dollar gold- 
piece. I was delighted. You know how one feels 
when he gets a new book, do n't you ? I opened it; 
and how nicely it was printed! how clear, and 
5* 



106 Letters to the Children. 

fresh, and sweet ! I snuffed it and snuffed it. Then 
the twenty dollars, how big it did seem ! " almost 
as big as a cart-wheel ! " I agreed to the proposi- 
tion at once, thinking I would accomplish the task 
without much trouble in about fifteen or twenty 
days. 

I made me a thumb-paper, vowed that I would 
not gnaw the corners like the rest of the boys did, 
and that nobody but myself should handle it, and 
so on. I can tell you I felt "some"! I moved 
off briskly. The first few lessons were so easy, I 
thought father had missed it in making me such an 
offer. 

You know, when you get one page you turn over 
a new one with great eagerness, but soon find that 
there is no fun in it. That was the way it was with 
me while studying " Greenleaf." There were more- 
rules and exceptions, and exceptions and rules, 
"than you could shake a stick at." There was one 
rule that I was a long time understanding. It is 
this : " Two negatives in the same sentence are 
equivalent to an affirmative." In order to impress 
it upon my mind, the teacher told me of a young 
man who was "dead in love" with a young lady r 
and asked her to "have him." She answered him,, 
and, as he thought, refused him ; consequently he 
showed signs of disappointment and sadness. As 
soon as she observed that, she laughed, and cited 
him to that rule in "Greenleaf." His uneasiness 
was all dispelled; and to this day I have never 
heard of any other good that rule has done. 

After a little I came to what was called defective 



Letters to the Children. 10T 

grammar. That " stumped me." I wondered why 
they did n't make it all correct at first. I thought, 
if I was going to make a book, I would try and 
have it right, and not filled with mistakes. I 
did n't understand the secret then. How I did tug 
over some of those sentences I They were so near 
right that they did n't appear to be wrong at all. I 
was bothered. I scratched my head ; I pulled my 
hair; I cried. I said I wanted to be a farmer; I 
did n't expect ever to be a teacher. I even said I 
did n't care anything about the " gold-piece," and I 
believed I would rather give it up. Father insisted ; 
I protested. But finally, with the aid of some other 
little thing that it is not necessary for me to men- 
tion, I was induced to hang on. But if I had been 
a man, with the feelings I then had, and could have 
gotten hold of Mr. Greenleaf, he would not have 
made any more grammars. 

There was one sentence that gave me a great deal 
of trouble. For the sake of variety, I will give it 
you for correction this time. " Do n't answer all at 
once," now; but let me see how many of you can r 
without help, correct it : " Several alterations and 
additions have been made to the work." 

Now for a question in the Bible. You remember 
once when the disciples had " toiled all night and 
caught nothing," about day Jesus appeared on the 
shore, but the disciples didn't know him. He 
called them children, and asked them if they had 
aDy meat. They answered, No. He told them to* 
cast the net on the right side of the ship, and they 
would find. They did so, and were not ahle to draw 



108 Letters to the Children. 

in the multitude of fishes. That disciple whom 
Jesus loved, John by name, said to Peter, "It is 
the Lord." Peter couldn't wait for the ship to 
carry him, but jumped overboard and swam to 
shore. Now, what I want you to tell me is, how 
many fish were in that net ? 

" The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing ; hut the 
soul of the diligent shall he made fat." 



Letters to the Children. 10$ 



LETTER XIX. 

A fine dog — His master — Accused of stealing — How the mat- 
ter was settled — Going in the back way — Here's to you. 

DEAR CHILDBED : —"Abstain from all ap- 
pearance of evil." This exhortation was forci- 
bly illustrated in my own case about a year and a 
half ago. 

I was in Memphis. Early one morning I started 
"up town," as the city folks say, and at the corner 
of Second and Gayoso streets I saw a Newfound- 
land dog ; He was very large, and black " all over." 
I like a fine dog. Indeed, I like every thing fine. 
I don't mean fine in the commonly-accepted sense 
of that term, but neat, complete, substantial. I do 
not know whether I resembled his master, but in 
any event he noticed me about as soon as I did him, 
and showed signs of recognition. I felt like speak- 
ing to him and patting him on the head. So, with- 
out thinking of any thing save giving expression 
to my feeling of admiration, I extended my hand, 
snapped my finger, and said, " You fine fellow ! " 
He seemed pleased, wagged his tail, and came to 
me. I gave him a pat or two, stroked his beautiful 
neck, and passed on. I had gone but a little way 
before he trotted past me &s if intent upon some- 



110 Letters to the Children. 

thing. When he reached Union street I think he 
turned as if going to Main street. I passed over, 
.and "before half the next square was made Mr. Dog 
trots by again. For the first time I thought he must 
be following me. Then I heard some one call him. 
I looked across the street and saw a gentleman who, 
I afterward learned, was his master. The dog went 
to him at once. I walked on and thought no more 
about the matter. 

A few days after I was passing through the Beale 
street market. I stopped at the stall of a friend. He 
said that he had heard something about me, and felt 
it his duty to tell me of it. I said, " Certainly; let's 

have it." He said, " Do you know Mr. , od Second 

street ? " " Not personally," said I. " Well," said he, 
" the other morning when you passed he was at my 
stand. He asked me if I knew you. I told him, 4 Yes.' 
Then he said, ' That man tried to steal my dog last 
week.' " My friend said he told him that he had 
known me a long time, and there must be some mis- 
take about it. " No," said Mr. , " I caught him 

in the act." I then explained the case to my inform- 
ant, and determined to go and see the gentleman at 
once. I went to his office, asked for him, introduced 
myself, and told him my business. He " bristled " up 
a little, and intimated that he didn't care any thing 
about any one who would steal a dog. I felt deeply 
mortified, and told him that I had come as a gentle- 
man to explain the matter, and if he would hear me 
I would do so. He calmed down, and we talked over 
the case. He said he saw me pat the dog, and saw 
him following me; and as he had been twice stolen, 



Letters to the Children. Ill 

the thought flashed across his mind that 1 was try- 
ing to steal him too. "Xow," said he, '-'under the 
circumstances, don't you think I had room for my 
suspicions?" I thought of the words with which 
this letter begins, and while there was no founda- 
tion in fact for his suspecting me, yet the " appear- 
ance'' might, perhaps, justify such an interpretation. 
This much I admitted, but assured him there was 
no such idea in my mind. He expressed himself 
satisfied, and there the matter ended. That man 
and I now live within a stone's-throw of each other, 
oar families visit, and I really believe he would not 
be afraid to trust me. 

Xow, the lesson to be learned is this : ^Te are 
here in this world where we are watched. All to 
whose notice we come labor to find us out. Being 
fallible, of course they can't do it altogether. The 
nearest they can come to it is to interpret our ac- 
tions. Often they are narrow-minded, and blinded 
by passion and prejudice, hence they blunder fear- 
fully in applying their best rule. This being true, 
how particular you and I should be ! It is true God 
knows our hearts, and the true character of our in- 
tentions will be made manifest at last, but then you 
must not forget that scripture that says, " No man 
liveth unto himself." This teaches us that our in- 
fluence is felt, and has more or less to do with the 
shaping of the character of others. I might say 
truthfully that our dress, our very walk in the street, 
our words, our actions, all give a touch somewhere 
to life's picture. 

I want to call the attention of the boys particu- 



112 Letters to the Children. 

larly to one point in this matter of iniiuenee. In 
cities, and country towns too, there are numbers of 
places called saloons, where nothing but whisky and 
other drinks are sold. Some of these places are 
kept very nicely. They have carpeted floors, fres- 
coed walls, adorned with pictures, French mirrors,, 
and all that. Every thing is enticing. Men and 
boys crowd into these dens of vice, fill their glasses, 
touch them together, and say, "Here's to you !" or 
something of that sort. I have been told that some 
men, ashamed to go in at the front door, are some- 
times seen going in the alley- way — at the back door 
— men who stand high — Church -members; and 
soon you may hear Mr. Barkeeper discoursing upon 
the strait-jacketness of the Church, and in his talk 
will bring in Mr. So and So, a deacon, elder, class- 
leader, Sunday-school superintendent, who is in the 
habit of visiting his place, and will say, "That is 
the sort of a Christian for me ; he 's liberal in his 
views. I think if there were more men of his stripe 
in the Churches I'd join myself." There maybe 
several young men who have been looking upon 
that deacon, leader, or Sunday-school superintend- 
ent, as their beau ideal of manhood, and perhaps 
have felt conscience-stricken time and again after 
having indulged in that way themselves, upon hear- 
ing that of him, or perhaps seeing for themselves, 
have never felt any more conscience upon the sub- 
ject. They keep on in the "respectable way," as it 
is called, a few years, and then begin to drift, and 
finally are wrecked. Hence I would warn young 
men and women to beware of the example they set. 



Letters to the Children. 113 

We must have an eye to the welfare of others, 
lest we prove stumbling-blocks in their way. Our 
trumpet must give no uncertain sound. In order, 
then, to have this sentiment fixed in your minds, 
turn these words over in your thoughts every now 
and then. 

"Abstain from all appearance of evil. Do that which is lawful 
and right, and you shall save your soul alive." 



114 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XX. 

The new baby — Keeping them back — "Splendid glad" — Tak- 
ing a peep — Order No. 1 — Importance of little things. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— Did you ever have a " new 
baby " to come to your house ? If you did, you 
know how it is. But no matter as to that — I want to 
tell you of one that came to our house the other day. 
It is a beautiful little girl, with black hair, dark-blue 
eyes, two pretty little ears, a sweet kind of little 
mouth, and a sort of pug nose. If you could have 
seen the other children around the crib, and heard 
their several remarks, you would have laughed. 
There were so many of them that I had to stand 
by and keep them back, so that the little miss could 
get air. I believe they would have about smothered 
her. One whom I will call Mag came into the room, 
and not knowing any thing about the baby's arrival, 
happened to stand near the crib. The baby made 
a little noise, just like they generally do, you 
know, when Mag stretched open her eyes, drew 
nearer, held one ear close down, and listened. Just 
then there was another noise. Mag jumped back, 
clapped her hands together, and said, "Hee, hee, 
it's a baby. I'm so glad! Papa, do let me see 
it ! " I turned back the coverlid, and sure enough 



Letters to the Children. 115 

■there was a live baby. Mag's eyes got bigger, she 
jumped and clapped more than ever. I said, " Mag, 
are you glad?" She answered, "0 yes, papa, I am 
* splendid glad !'" I was kept busy till night answer- 
ing questions and showing the little curiosity. I 
was glad when bed-time came. In the night, about 
twelve o'clock, I was aroused by something. What 
do you think it was ? Why, one or two of the other 
children, Mag's sisters, were up looking at the clock. 
I suppose they were counting the hours till day. 
They wanted to know how long it would be before 
they could have another look. I enjoyed it, and 
gathered several ideas concerning human nature. 
There was no sleeping at our house that night, ex- 
cept " cat naps." We had some catnip, too. I won- 
der if there ever was a baby that did not have to 
drink its share of catnip. I reckon not. Morning 
came. The rising bell was rung, and if you could 
have seen the turning out and the rushing in, and 
listened to the pattering feet and jabbering tongues, 
you might have thought that several families were 
boarding with us. But that is n't so — all of them 
belong there. We had a time of it till breakfast, 
after which I gave some orders and left. When I 
returned at dinner-time, our oldest, a girl of about 
twelve years, had to have her "see." All the rest 
crowded up, too, as a matter of course. She looked 
only a moment at the face, and then began to search 
for the feet. Can you tell me why it is that young 
ladies always want to see a baby's foot? When 
they were found and brought to light, what a time 
was had over them! One said, "What a sweet lit- 



116 Letters to the Children. 

tie foot ! " another, " Just look at its big toe — aint it 
long and red!" another, "What a darling little 
heel ! " The other — well, I forget what he said, but 
it was a good deal. All together, at once, " Mamma, 
let me hold it just one minute." There was no way 
to settle the matter but for me to issue order E"o. 1, 
which was to this effect : Neither of you are to han- 
dle or hold it until I say so ; and as I am " boss " at 
my house, and everybody knows it, and never ques- 
tion my right, order and quiet was once more re- 
stored. 

What I have been relating, children, made me 
think of the great importance of little things. L 
want you to think about it. That infant is very 
small, and entirely helpless, yet it created more ex- 
citement, and is more noticed, than all the people, 
old and young, that have visited us during ten years* 
It has more influence in the family than all of us- 
put together — I might say, it is the queen of the 
household — everybody bows before its scepter, and 
renders willing service. That is more than can be 
said of Queen Victoria even. So, then, you must 
remember the little things — do n't allow them to go 
unnoticed. They make up the happiness as well a& 
the miseries of life. 

That hive of beautiful and delicious honey, that 
some people are so inconsiderate and cruel as to kill 
those little manufacturing architects to get, was the 
work of bees not as big as the tip of my little fin- 
ger. The honey was gathered by them from some 
of the smallest flowers. It was gathered, too, in 
little bits, "here a little, and there a little." And 






Letters to the Children. 117 

if you ever saw a bee light upon a blossom and 
crawl in, you may have thought, as I have done 
many a time, "Well, it does seem impossible that that 
is the way the honey I had for supper was gathered; 
yet it is a fact, nevertheless. Every little bee goes 
out and sips up some. They all fly back and put it 
together. They keep at this until the hive is full. 
I never heard of one of those little ones becoming 
discouraged and giving up. I read these lines about 
the bee when I went to school : 

See how the little busy bee 

Improves each shining hour, 
It gathers honey all the day 

From every opening flower. 

Again, that fine silk dress of your mother's, and 
that pair of Sunday pants and jacket of yours, are 
made up of small threads. 

^ot long ago the cars on the Mississippi and Ten- 
nessee railroad were behind time. Upon inquiry it 
was ascertained that the caterpillars had stopped 
them. Just think of such small things blocking 
up the way of an engine capable of pulling tons 
and tons. One of them, or many of them, could 
not have done that, but when thousands of them 
wrapped themselves together and marched across 
the way of the rails, they stopped the rushing " iron 
horse." 

The . above examples may suffice to give you an 
idea of what I am trying to impress on your minds. 
Look after your little opportunities, your little ad- 
vantages, your scraps of time; watch your little 
inclinations to do wrong; keep a bridle on that 



118 Letters to the Children. 

mischievous member, the tongue. Look closely 
after your thoughts; do not undertake to parley 
with any bad ones, no matter how insignificant they 
may seem, for if allowed, they will pile themselves up, 
and up, until they get too much for you to manage. 

Young people, improve the time; keep good com- 
pany or none; exercise body and mind; keep at 
something; read good books or papers, or both; 
don't say, "I haven't time." You have spare mo- 
ments every day. It is said of the late Hon. Abbott 
Lawrence, that when he was a clerk he kept a book 
in the dining-room of his boarding-house. Some- 
times he had to wait a few moments for his break- 
fast. He spent that time in reading. He thought 
over what he had read on his way to the store. 
That is what I would call redeeming the time. 
Lawrence was one of the best-informed men of his 
day. 

"Try," says Mr. James Hamilton, "what you can 
make of the broken fragments of time. Glean up 
its golden dust ; those raspings and parings of pre- 
cious duration, those leavings of days and remnants 
of hours which so many sweep out into the waste- 
of existence. If you be a miser of moments, if 
you be frugal and hoard up odd minutes and unex- 
pected holidays, your careful gleanings may eke out 
a long and useful life, and you may die richer at last 
than multitudes whose time is all their own." 

I have received many letters during the past few 
weeks. One comes from Colorado. The writer says 
that he does not spend any of his money buying " fire- 
crackers," etc. He wishes I had been with him th^ 



Letters to the Children. 119 

night of July 4. He could have showed me some 
mosquitoes — big ones. "Why," says he, "a great 
many of them would weigh a pound." I reckon it 
would take a great many, don't you? 

Then comes another from my little friend, Flora 

C. M , of Waterford, Miss., telling me how 

many fish were in "that net;" also supplying the 
wanting preposition in the defective sentence. How 
prompt she was ! I thought she had hardly received 
the paper,*when lo ! her letter appears. I like so 
much to see folks prompt. If you owe anybody 
any thing, children, " come to time;" it will help to 
make a good name for you. If you will learn to be 
prompt, upright, truthful, and religious, what a mul- 
titude of staunch and grand "old folks" will live 
here after I am gone ! How good I will feel if I 
can help to accomplish that end! 

"Walt" , of Oxford, Miss., wants to know 

what Adam and Eve were turned out of Eden for. 
I think eating of the forbidden fruit was the pri- 
mary cause; "lest he should eat of the tree of life," 
the secondary. If Adam and Eve had maintained 
their purity throughout their probation, I think it 
possible that they would have been permitted to eat 
of the tree of life, and thus would have escaped 
physical dissolution. But having become corrupt, 
it seems to me that G-od in mercy interposed, and 
prevented everlasting life from becoming the herit- 
age of the parties in so degraded a condition, hav- 
ing in store for them and us a better inheritance. 

"Thou shalt rise up before the' hoary head, and honor the face of 
the old man, and fear thy God." 



120 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXI. 

The prodigal son — Father and mother know best — The naval 
officer — "Do your duty, sir" — Rifle in hand— -" Jump over- 
board, or I will shoot." 

DEAR CHILDREN:— This is my twenty -first 
letter — enough, with those I have received 
from you, to make a good-sized book. How many 
things have come to pass since I wrote my first ! 
How many of my little readers have run the race 
of life, and to-day sleep under the cedars in some 
grave-yard ! We that remain are moving on toward 
our end, and soon our school of discipline will close. 
Then we will know a great many more things than 
we do now. We will have God's providences ex- 
plained. Then many a doting father will under- 
stand why it was that that manly hoy was borne so 
early to the tomb. Many a widow will find out 
that God was kind and wise in removing her soul's 
delight, the partner of her youth, her earthly sup- 
port. Many an orphan will understand why God 
suffered him to be left to the cold charities of this 
world. Many a man of business will understand 
his frequent and unforeseen reverses. 

You and I are just like boys going to school who 
are in their A B C's. They sit and while away a 



Letters to the Children. 121 

great deal of their time. By-and-by a class passes 
up to recite a lesson in some of the higher branches 
of study. The recitation is all jargon to them ; 
they understand none of it. But time passes. They 
have learned to read. Their minds develop, and 
soon they are in that department themselves ; truth 
after truth is revealed, and they understand what 
was before incomprehensible. 

"What we know not now we shall know here- 
after," is an inspired statement. The above is writ- 
ten because I know there are a great many boys 
and girls who are dissatisfied at home. They think 
their parents' discipline is too severe. They long 
to be beyond parental control. Some of them run 
away from home, and, like the prodigal son told 
about in the New Testament, get among the swine 
and feed on husks. I would like the young men 
and maidens to understand one thing above all 
others, and that is, father and mother understand 
this life better than you. They know what is best 
for you in most instances, and are anxious for your 
full development. They can make nothing by de- 
ceiving or improperly training you ; that would all 
reflect back upon themselves. They may make 
many mistakes — you, if left to yourselves, would 
make more. This truth you will appreciate after a 
few years. 

I read a little book once, called " Path of Life," 
written by Daniel "Wise. Some things in that book 
made quite an impression on my mind. I was un- 
easy at home. I contrasted my condition with that 
of some others, and longed to be " my own man." 
6 



122 Letters to the Children. 

I fretted under home culture — thought father hard 
and unkind. 

In that little book I met with a chapter that con- 
tained an incident which exactly suited my case. I 
read it, and thought ; the more I thought, the more 
I wondered. After a little, I saw through the in- 
tention of the writer. It was to teach a great les- 
son ; and while it was more particularly directed to 
comfort Christians under God's discipline, I thought 
it suited me. I will now, as near as necessary, relate 
the story for you — you can then make your own 
application. 

A father took his son to sea. He was a celebrated 
naval officer, and wished to have his son become 
eminent likewise. He saw that it was necessary 
for the boy to become a thorough seaman. He 
must understand all a sailor's duty. When he went 
aboard, he very naturally expected, being the son 
of the captain, some indulgence. The change from 
a comfortable home, a kind mother, and accom- 
plished sisters, to the stormy life of a sailor was 
great. He knew his father was kind, so he hoped 
to escape the harder duties. He was self-deceived. 
His father made no distinction. 

In the darkness, he was ordered aloft. Once, 
when sea-sick, he asked to be excused. " Do your 
duty, sir," was his father's reply. As he mounted 
the mast that night, he for the first time doubted 
his father's love. 

Like his shipmates, he committed misdemeanors, 
violated some of the rules. His inward thought 
was, " Father 's captain — I will be indulged." He 



Letters to the Children. 12d> 

was deceived again. He was punished more severely 
than any other lad. Again he doubted his fatherV 
love. 

He one day climbed to the topmost mast of the- 
vessel, and stood upright on the main-truck. Just 
then his father came from the cabin. The lieuten- 
ant, pale with fear, pointed up, and said, "Look,, 
sir, at your son ! " One glance of the eye, a rush 
into the cabin, a moment's time, and that father 
raised his rifle, and shouted, " Jump overboard, or 
I will shoot you ! " The boy leaped into the sea f 
and was saved. He could not understand this treat- 
ment, and again doubted his father's love. 

The four years' cruise is ended ; the boy, almost 
a man, is again at home with his father. He is a? 
skilled seaman. His father is as tender and affec- 
tionate as he was before the cruise. The youth 
wonders at the mystery of his father's conduct — so 
stern and severe at sea — so kind at home ! What 
can be his real character ? 

The father and son are closeted. " My son," says 
the father, "you have no doubt wondered at some- 
parts of my conduct. I compelled you to go aloft 
when sea-sick, I rebuked you for your faults. These 
things were painful for me to do, but your interests 
required them. I wanted to make you a finished 1 
seaman. The things you felt most keenly were the 
most necessary for your profit. When I threatened 
to shoot you as you stood on the main-truck, it was 
to save your life. Had I expostulated a moment, 
you would have fallen. I did it to save your life. I 
have aimed in all these things to benefit you." 



124 Letters to the Children. 

"With these explanations, do n't you see how read- 
ily all the former doubts of the boy were removed ? 
I know you do. Some of you will even wonder 
at the mental stupidity which prevented him from 
entering at first into his father's wise designs. 

Now, your parents are moved by the same kind 
of motives in your rearing; and instead of growling, 
and becoming dissatisfied, you ought to act more 
wisely, and say, " My parents know best." 

God deals with us many times in similar ways 
Good people cannot be always discovered by out- 
ward providences, or separated from sinners by 
visible signs of heavenly favor. 

On the other hand, they are often sorely afflicted. 
I will give a few examples. Joseph was greatly 
oppressed; David was hunted like a beast of prey; 
Daniel was cast among the lions; the three He- 
brew children passed through a furnace of fire; 
Job was an object of desolation; Jeremiah was 
thrown into a pit ; Stephen was stoned to death by 
haters of the gospel; Paul had to carry a thorn 
in the flesh; John was an exile on Patmos; and 
Lazarus was a beggar and licked by the dogs. 

Children, it is a good idea to read a little in the 
Bible every day. Everybody would be wiser and 
better by studying that book more. There would 
-aot be one-tenth the number of ignorant, fretful, 
despairing, woe-begone, faithless creatures in the 
world that there are, if that grand and glorious 
old volume was more generally consulted. Let me 
beseech you not to neglect it. 

•" Children, obey your parents in the Lord ; for this is right." 



Letters to the Children. 125 



LETTER XXII. 

The house I was born in — " The old sweet-heart" — Cats aftef 
the milk — Murder will out. 

DEAR CHILDREN" : — The house in which I 
was born is still standing. Some few altera- 
tions and improvements have been made in it from 
time to time, but enough remains to mark distinctly 
its identity. It stands upon quite an elevation, and 
used to be surrounded by various kinds of trees. 
But trees, like everybody and every thing, have an 
end. low, or rather a few years ago, when I was 
there, the shade was sparser. 

One old tree, however, that was old when I was 
young, still stood in the back yard — an old cherry, 
about as big round as a hogshead. The fruit was 
very small, but very sweet — so sweet that it went 
by the name of "the old sweet -heart." Many a 
fine bunch have I had thrown from its well-laden 
boughs by the "boys," when they came in from the 
plows. 

In the rear of the house, at each parlor window, 
there was a great big rose-bush that used to bear 
roses, some of which were as large as your biggest 
hand spread wide open. Hence that was a great 



126 Letters to the Children. 

place for the " humble-bees " (according to the pro- 
nunciation of us children, "bumble-bees"), hornets, 
wasps, and yellow-jackets. 

There are two kinds of " bumble-bees " — one has 
a white face, the other black. Those with white 
faces are very clever — they do n't sting a fellow ; 
and besides, they carry a large sac of honey along 
with them — and it was the honey I was after. But 
the black-faced ones are grum and cross. You can't 
joke with them a bit. They retaliate every time. 
I have often seen, as I thought, a white-face fly 
amid the bush, with back to me. I, eager to cap- 
ture it, would steal up, and, when I was right cer- 
tain as to the kind, would grasp it with my naked 
iJaand. More than once I found I had the one I 
did n't want ; and as I make it a rule to get rid of 
what I do n't want as soon as possible, I did not 
hesitate in any such case that I now remember of. 
I think almost any bee would, if it could reason, 
have appreciated my willingness and activity in the 
premises. 

Say, boys, did you ever have a yellow-jacket up 
jour breeches-legs ? If you did, did n't you " spread 
yourself" ? I imagine I hear you say, " I reckon I 
(lid." Yellow-jackets are little things, but they can 
make more fuss with a boy, and excite him more, 
than any thing else of the same size I know of, 
except a hornet — which, by the way, must be a 
second or third cousin of the yellow-jacket. 

Well, let 's return a little while to the old home. 
I said it stood high. It was one of the old-fash- 
iioned, hip-roofed houses, with a large and deep old 



Letters to the Children. 127 

cellar under it, where they used to keep the milk, 
butter, cream, etc. The entrance was from the out- 
side, at the west end of the house ; two doors folded 
down, making a sort of half trap. It was custom- 
ary to secure them with a padlock most of the time, 
especially at night. Sometimes, however, they were 
left open during the day, in order that the circula- 
tion should he free, and the atmosphere down there 
be purified. 

About night you might have heard mother, if you 
had been there, telling Sarah, the milkmaid, to put 
an extra rock on the crock-covers next day, as the 
dogs or cats had been in the cellar and broken the 
morning's milk. Did it ever occur to you that the 
blame often rests where it do n't belong? "But," 
thought I, " if no harm comes to the dogs and cats, 
no one will ever be the wiser, and I will enjoy many 
a delightful swallow." But, children, somehow or 
other, every mean little thing I did was sure to be 
found out; and in spite of all I could do, I as often 
managed to let the " cat out of the bag " myself 
as any other way. Mother used to say, "Ah, my 
young man, I have caught you, have I ? ' Murder 
will out.' " I used to feel very mean, and " they " 
used to tell me I looked sheepish. The feelings I 
had, the mortification growing out of the fact that 
I had abused my mother's confidence, bore upon me 
heavily. I concluded it would have been better for 
me to ask for what I wanted, instead of making it 
necessary for mother to secure the doors because I 
was about — to so act that she would have felt safe 
had she left home and forgotten to lock up, saying, 



128 Letters to the Children. 

" There is no danger. My son is there ; he will 
take care of every thing. ' That precious boy,' he 
is such a help and comfort to me ! " How grand 
that would have been! It would have been just 
what nine out of every ten mothers would have 
said about such a boy. I know what I am talking 
about, because whenever I did right that was the 
way it was with me. It will be so with you. Do n't 
do any thing mean, or little, or contemptible, and 
then try to cover it up. That will only make mat- 
ters worse ; for if you have a soul in you as large 
as one remorseful thought, you will not be paid for 
your trouble. It will lash you around until you 
will be glad to " 'fess up." It is noble to confess 
our faults; it is nobler still to forsake them; it is 
nobler still so to live as that there shall be no neces- 
sity for either. Do n't let your conscience go to 
sleep, children; keep it wide awake. If you will, 
you need never fear being overcome. It is God's 
watchman to warn you of danger. When well 
trained it makes no false alarms. So stand up and 
gird on your armor whenever it gives the signal. 

" Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord ; but they that deal 
truly are his delight." 



Letters to the Children. 129 



LETTER XXIII. 

A faithful recorder — Can't bribe him — Twenty lashes — Failed 
to keep count — Scattering things every which way. 

DEAR CHILDREN":— I left you last week with 
an exhortation to keep an eye on your con- 
science. I told you also some little ahout our old 
homestead. I wish this time to dwell somewhat 
longer around that old spot, and give you an inci- 
dent in which I figured largely. 

I know of no subject more worthy to be consid- 
ered, or that I feel more anxiety about, than the 
duty of children to parents. Sometimes I sit by 
myself and unstring my mind. Then I find it dis- 
posed to review the past. It seems to me to be like 
a book with every page full ; here a pretty picture, 
there an ugly one — here a chapter of good deeds, 
kind words, willing obedience, there one full of cross 
words, ill-tempers, ugly actions, etc. I feel sorry 
when I come to an ugly page, and wish old Mr. 
Memory's recording secretary had left it out ; but 
he had instructions to put everything in, I suppose, 
and he did it. And while he seems to have dipped 
his pen in the brightest colors when he wrote the 
bad part, I am compelled to admit that he has dotted 
6* 



130 Letters to the Children. 

every i and crossed every t. He is a faithful re- 
corder. And here I will take occasion to say, that 
if you are tempted to do things that you would not 
like to go to the records, do n't do them, because 
they will be sure to appear. The old secretary 
can't be bribed, because he is already immortal, and 
does n't have any use for the stuff you could offer 
as a consideration. 

The incidents I give from time to time I regard 
as so many features in life's journey — so many 
places in the road, to which it is necessary to call 
the attention of all who have to travel that way; 
so that, by taking heed, many a broken shaft, sprain, 
upset, runaway, and other disasters, may be avoided. 
I would not be willing to tell these things on my- 
self but for the great love I have for you, and the 
earnest desire I have that you should pass through 
childhood and youth into manhood and womanhood 
with a record clearer and brighter than mine. Now 
for the incident. 

The kitchen adjoined the house. It was on the 
east end, and built somewhat lower than the main 
building. We reached it from the dining-room by 
:a flight of steps. There was one of those wide, 
old-fashioned fire-places in it that you could almost 
lay a fence-rail in without cutting it. Then at each 
end was quite an abutment that the black people 
call a jam. In each of these jams there were sev- 
eral holes they called cuddies, where they kept their 
old pipes and tobacco. They were good places, too, 
for the old women to "chuck" their knitting in 
when called on to do something else. Then I have 



Letters to the Children. 131 

.seen young chickens, just hatched, wrapped in an old 
flannel and tucked away in them of a cold night, just 
-as cozily as you please. I can tell you those " cud- 
dies" were good hiding-places, as we children soon 
found out; for many were the biscuits, walnuts, 
hickory - nuts, etc., that we hauled from thence. 
When we made a good haul, did n't we have a good 
time ! Why, we would play housekeeping, and invite 
each other to dine. I tell you, we put on style! 
We made the most of it ; but when the things were 
inquired after, it was the hardest matter to find out 
who "did it" that you ever heard of. "That was 
the other side of the question." 

Eainy days, father used to read and write a great 
deal. He was a preacher, and of course, like all 
other preachers who do much in that line, he had 
to study. You know, when one wants to study, it 
is n't very desirable to have over five or six children 
around — one saying, "Mother, I wish you would 
-come to Jane — she is pinching me ; " another, 
"Tom, if you do that again, I'll call father to 
you;" another, " mother, look at the baby — he 's 
got your work-box down, and scattered your things 
•every which way ! " I say, it does not help one to 
study, these things do n't. So we children had a 
fire in another room — sometimes in the kitchen. 
Every thing was quite convenient about the place, 
except drinking-water. There was a well at the 
kitchen door, but the water was not very good; but 
about four or five hundred yards away there was a 
splendid spring, large and clear. The coldest day 
in the winter it smoked. Father used to fetch a 



132 Letters to the Children. 

grunt when he got hold of the old stone pitcher,, 
brimming full, just in from that spring. He loved 
good, fresh water. He used to say that it was the 
best drink in the world ; and he always expressed 
his gratitude and pleasure at the fact that there was 
enough for all, and as free as the air. How strange, 
then, is it, boys, that men will leave this healthy, 
delicious, and free natural beverage, and pay large 
prices for all sorts of fiery mixtures that make them 
frown to swallow, and, after they have swallowed 
them, walk around staring at vacancy, with blood- 
shot eyes and bloated faces ! They are being burned 
out. Boys, there are a great many men, old and 
young, walking around the streets of Memphis, and 
in the country, too, who are going down every day. 
Soon they will lie upon their beds of death, and 
then, perchance, will send for some preacher to 
baptize them. I want you to understand that I do 
not place any limit to the mercy of G-od; but those 
who do that way, according to my judgment, run a 
most fearful risk. 

One day we were all in the kitchen playing. You 
may have noticed that some children seem to de- 
light in tantalizing each other. They never are so 
well pleased as when they can tease and fret each 
other, and if possible excite some one to say or do 
something rash, and then run and blab it out the 
first chance they get, thus adding insult to injury. 
I want to warn you, my dear readers, against such 
a course. Do all you can to keep each other out of 
scrapes; do n't do any thing to get each other into 
them — that aint brotherly. 



Letters to the Children. 133 

I was, as I said, engaged in play. One of my 
sisters came to the door and called me. I opened 
it, and there she stood, with that old stone pitcher, 
and in a commanding tone said, " Take this pitcher, 
sir, and go to the spring." I said, " I won't do it." 
She said, " You had better, if you know what's good 
for yourself, sir." I declared and vowed I wouldn't 
go. About this time I was quite worked up — not 
myself exactly. Then she said, " Father says you 
must go." Overcome as I was with anger, I gave 
the pitcher a jerk, and unthoughtedly said, "An old 
rascal ! " While I was gone, she told on me. "When 
I returned, father drank with as much gratitude, if 
not as much pleasure, as ever. He then invited me 
into the parlor, locked the door behind us, fastened 
the outer one, also the one leading upstairs. He 
then walked to the large fire-place, and looked up 
the chimney. About this time my feelings can be 
better imagined than described. He then told me 
what he. had heard, and asked me if it was true. I 
said, " Yes, sir." He then asked me what I thought 
he ought to do about it. I told him I was sorry, but 
thought he ought to whip me. He then said, "How 
many lashes do you say I ought to give you ? " I 
said, "I don't know, sir; but I reckon, twenty." 
"Well," said he, "I do not want to cheat you; so, 
as I give them, you count." I thought that would 
be an easy matter, but it was the hardest job I ever 
undertook. I broke down about the third lick. I 
was perfectly willing to leave the whole matter with 
him. Suffice it to say, he was much more merciful 
.to me than I was to myself. He did not give me 



134 Letters to the Children. 

twenty, or the half of it. If any of you think it is 
easy to count and be whipped at the same time, I 
wish you would try it the first chance you get, and 
if you do n't say it 's no time for counting, " you can 
say I'm no judge." 

I was taught a good lesson by that circumstance. 
I was made more particular; I was less rash; I 
looked into things more carefully before expressing 
myself. I do not remember ever speaking disrespect- 
fully of my father but that one time. I would not 
have done it then had I not been so severely tempted. 
My sister did wrong. Now, my dear children, avoid' 
provoking one another to wrath; remember you 
may do a thing in a minute that will take you all 
your life long to undo. Your sins may be forgiven, 
but the remembrance of them will ever be grievous 
to you ; so beware ! 

" Whoso curseth Ms father or his mother, his lamp shall be ppfc 
out in obsoure darkness." 



Letters to the Children. 135 



LETTER XXIV. 

One more time — Home the best place to find out what one is 
— "0 I'll stop after awhile" — Habits — Cherry and Chibby — 
Spilled milk — Adieu for a season. 

DEAR, CHILDREN":— I thought last week I 
would stop writing, at least for a season ; but 
I saw the editor of the paper, and as the weather is 
warm, and things generally sluggish, he thought I 
had better not stop. Hence I will appear one more 
time at least. 

My wife has been after me for some weeks to 
write a chapter on cows. She thinks my experi- 
ence justifies the attempt. You would be surprised 
to see how proud she is because my letters have 
been so much noticed. She has really gotten to be- 
lieve that I am smart. You know I have a way of 
"throwing sand in her eyes." Even the children at 
home say, "Papa, don't stop." "Why?" says L 
"'Cause, we want people to think you's a great 
man." I tell you, children, it is a good sign for one 
to stand well at home. It is the best place in the 
world to find out what anybody is. There the true 
character is fully seen. If I could get you to tell 
me, I would rather ask you what kind of a man 
your father is, or what kind of a woman your 



136 Letters to the Children. 

mother is, or whether your brothers and sisters are 
good or not, than to ask the teacher, preacher, or 
anybody else, for the reason that most people put 
on their good behavior when company is about, or 
when they are away from home. I have heard it 
called "putting the best foot foremost." But at 
home they throw off all restraints. Then there is a 
chance to see whether there be any thing lovely 
about them. I have thought often I would drop 
you a hint or two upon this subject. Do your best 
to cultivate good manners, kindness, patience, affa- 
bility, and love at home. If you do you will have 
no trouble when you go abroad; it will all come 
easy to you, it will be so natural. You will make no 
miserable blunders, such as I have often seen folks 
make in trying to appear what they were not. I 
have been disgusted many a time, and then had my 
disgust changed into pity, when I have seen some 
of the class to which I have alluded at hotels, on 
. steam-boats, and elsewhere in my travels. They put 
me in mind of the time when I was a poor swimmer, 
trying to swim up stream. I used to flounder, and 
kick, and puff, and make more noise than three good 
swimmers, and then did n't make any headway. I 
was undertaking too much, you see, and conse- 
quently exposed my want of training. In life's 
river, upon which your bark and mine have been 
launched, we have a great deal to do with forming 
and controlling the current. So, if we let loose all 
our passions, and give them full sweep for a few 
years in the early part of life, it will be next to im- 
possible to check them. They will have gathered 



Letters to the Children. 137 

strength as they have rolled on — this little tributary 
and that adding each one a little. I say, if you 
allow that sort of thing you will soon be at the 
" mercy of the waves," and sad indeed will be your 
•condition. 

I have seen young men — some of them started 
out with me — it was so easy and so pleasant to float 
with the tide, that they did so. I have talked with 
them about the danger they were in. They would 
partially admit it, but would say, "0 I'll stop after 
awhile, and go your way." After awhile some of 
the poor fellows did try to turn, but they found 
they were not as strong as they thought they were, 
and in their alarm and inability many have foun- 
dered; and to-day life's river is strewed all along 
with the wrecks of those who have acted similarly. 
Hence I say, boys, and girls too, watch the current 
of your life; don't let any habit get hold of you. 
You hold your habits, and then when any evil is 
suggested, you can say, No, in such a way as that 
no second appeal will be made from that quarter. 

"But," say you, "what has all that got to do with 
the cow chapter?" Nothing at all, but then there 
are some pretty good hints, and you know it has 
been said, "A hint to the wise is sufficient." 

About twenty years ago my father bought the 
farm adjoining our old homestead, built a brick 
house, and we moved. There was an old barn and 
some pasture at the old place, so the cows were left 
there to winter. Our milkmaid, who was also cook, 
was very valuable to us, and withal not very healthy; 
so when snow-storms and rain came, somebody else 



138 Letters to thje Children. 

had to do the milking, and as I was about . the best 
except Sarah, it generally fell to my lot. Then, 
mother was so kind! She called me her man, but- 
toned up my coat for me, tied my comfort around 
my neck, and promised to make me a pie, or some 
cakes. She did not do these things to pay me, but 
simply to encourage me. She knew that any order 
would have been sufficient, but the truth of the 
matter is she had a kind heart, and you know that 
when one has good inside, it is very apt to manifest 
itself in some way. How those little kindnesses did 
strengthen me! I didn't care for the cold, snow, 
or rain. I went off singing. 

One morning it rained just enough to make a 
little icy crust upon the already-frozen ground. A 
very heavy snow-storm followed, and covered over 
every thing beautifully. A little before night I got 
ready and started to the old place to milk Cherry 
and Chibby, the only cows, I think, that were then 
giving milk. 

Sometimes I would be milking away and singing, 
when all at once my old cloak-flap, or something 
else, would dangle about the legs of the cow. She 
would raise her foot as if to knock off a fly, I would 
be oft* my guard, and in " less than no time" I would 
be minus milk, can, and hat, and perhaps oft" a little 
distance getting up. But this time no such diffi- 
culty arose. I got through with the cows all right 
— fed them, fastened the doors, and started home 
feeling happy. I got along finely until within a 
few hundred yards of home, where was quite a hill, 
I began the ascent thoughtless of what lay covered 



Letters to the Children. 139 

beneath my feet. I was nearly up — I made another 
step, it was the fatal one. I was on a slippery place 
and didn't know it — down I came "curfiump," 
milk and all. The snow drank up the milk at once, 
and hardly left a sign. I gathered up myself and' 
the bucket, looked a little while at the rugged place 
my figure had made, and started to the house feel- 
ing much chagrined. I was afraid of a scolding, 
etc. Hence I was unhappy. I went in, told how 
it was — mother said she knew I did the best I could, 
and that it was all right. I felt better, and the thing 
was over. I never see that picture in "Webster's- 
Spelling-book, representing the maid who let the 
pail fall from her head, that I do not feel sorry for 
the poor creature. 

E"ow, children, remember a great many things in 
this world are covered over with beautiful trim- 
mings that are very dangerous to meddle with. In 
other words, they are like that hill, covered first 
with ice, then snow, and whoever carelessly treads 
will lose footing, and perhaps sustain serious loss. 
Look into things, their probable and possible con- 
sequences, before you allow yourself to take hold. 
Remember the old adage, "Look before you leap." 
Think before you speak, and then the way to a long, 
wide, and useful career will be opened to you. 

JnTow, suppose I have made one good impression 
on each of those who have read my letters, how 
many do you think that would amount to ? Welly 
I reckon about forty thousand. That is a great 
deal to do, is n't it ? Now, if each of the forty thou- 
sand will go to work to make one more impression 



140 Letters to the Children. 

upon somebody else, who can calculate the good 
that might result therefrom? 

"With this letter I will bid you adieu for a season. 
When times and things are a little more favorable 
than now, I may begin a new series. Until then, 
remember that you have a friend who will ever be 
glad to hear from you, and who will always take a 
lively interest in the welfare of the young people. 
I want all my little readers who are not already 
Christians to become such at an early day. Begin 
in the morning if you would do a day's work. 
Do n't forget that you will not be able to put in the 
plea of the eleventh-hour servants, told of in the 
New Testament. They had not been called before. 
You have. May the Lord bless, prosper, and keep 
you all unto everlasting life ! 

" Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, 
.and whether it be right. " 






Letters to the Children. 141 



LETTER XXV. 

Still alive — Christmas-tree — Old Santa Claus — Finding his 
pile, etc. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— "I seat myself with pen 
in hand to inform yon that we are all well, and 
hope these few lines will find yon enjoying the same 
great blessing." I wonder if there ever was a boy 
or girl that did not begin a first letter something 
like the above? I reckon not. 

It has been a long time since I wrote my last let- 
ter to yon — a considerable gap it is — -much joy and 
sorrow, sickness and death, have intervened. When 
I think of what has passed, particularly in Mem- 
phis, I am forcibly reminded of that hymn that is 
sung at the opening of almost every Annual Con- 
ference. It begins — 

And are we yet alive ? 
I propose to throw a bridge over that deep, wide, 
and dark chasm,* and write as though nothing had 
happened. (Look after that word, chasm.) 

*The yellow fever made its appearance about the first of 
September, 1873. The first official report of deaths was pub- 
lished Sept. 14 — the last, Nov. 9. For over two months death- 
scenes were common. It is estimated that over two thousand 
persons died. 



E42 Letters to the Children. 

Last night was Christmas eve here, and I suppose 
it was the same where you live. The officers of the 
Sunday-school where I belong had a Christmas-tree 
for the children. The church was decorated with 
evergreens and flowers, wreath-shaped, looped, and 
festoon ed. The tree-top touched the ceiling, and was 
loaded, limb after limb, with gifts for the children. 
There was a name on each thing, and every child's 
jiame belonging to the school was on something — 
not one was omitted. Under the tree were piled 
up, in the shape of a pyramid, apples and oranges, 
with little packages of candies and nuts for each 
one. From the ceiling, just in the rear of all, 
waved a beautiful banner, with a white satin ground 
on one side, inscribed with letters of gold. The 
other side was a red ground, with letters of silver. 
The inscriptions together read thus: "Hernando 
.Street Sunday-school working for Jesus." That 
was grand, wasn't it? Taken altogether, every 
thing was appropriate and in good taste — both of 
which are features to be carefully observed all 
through life. Yes, my dear children, to do right 
things, to speak proper words at the right time and 
in the right way, are accomplishments as beautiful 
as they are rare. I remember reading somewhere 
& very wise man's remark in regard to a word fitly 
spoken. He said that it " is like apples of gold in 
pictures of silver." Seeing the silver side of that 
oanner, with its " great big" letters of gold, made 
me think of that passage. It helped me also to ap- 
preciate more fully the beauty and force of the ex- 
pression. !Now, I want every one of you to look 



Letters to the Children. 143 

for that passage, and write me where it can be found, 
and who its author is. A big job for some who are 
bigger than you — take my word for it. 

When the church was about full of men, women, 
and children of all sizes and ages, the kind brother 
and superintendent, J. R. Godwin, rose, and after 
the style of public speakers, said : " I am no orator. 
If I was I am satisfied that this would not be the 
time or the place to make a speech." (He was cor- 
rect, wasn't he?) "I am convinced that what is to 
take place will interest you all more than any thing 
I could say." Correct again, say you, and I too. 
" Now," said he, " all of you who would like to see 
' Santa Claus,' say I." "I" was heard all over the 
house. Before the sound had fairly died away the 
shutters of one of the large windows flew back, and 
among the crowd the old gentleman jumped, sure 
enough. Imagine the effect, if you can. Some hal- 
looed, boohooed right out, some cried, some sat still 
as they could, and said they "wasn't afeard;" but I 
could see them shake, and by the way they said it, 
I think their tongues were acting upon their own 
responsibility principally. The old fellow soon con- 
vinced them, however, that he was not to be feared. 
He wished them all a merry Christmas, bowed and 
scraped, shook hands, and then began to haul down 
and hand out the presents. That soon relieved all 
embarrassment, and notwithstanding his hideous 
visage, there was n't a child, I think, that refused to 
leave father and mother at his call. So much, chil- 
dren, for kindness — it has a wonderful power — it 
wins every time. Remember that, and in all your 



144 Letters to the Children. 

intercourse with one another be kind and gentle — 
live in peaceful harmony. "What a beautiful sight 
it is to behold a large family of children where each 
strives to please the other, and above all, anxious 
and ever ready to yield willing help and obedience 
to father and mother (the two sweetest names, and 
the two dearest persons, on earth) ! 

About ten o'clock "Old Santa" had literally 
" limbed" the tree — scattered his bounty in every 
direction. He then took leave of all, told the chil- 
dren that it would be a long time before he would 
come again, and that they must all be good while 
he was gone. Whereupon the assembly broke up, 
and many a little fellow tugged and grunted in car- 
rying home what he had gotten, and was assisted in 
the effort by the reflection that the morning would 
bring fresher joys. 

When the little ones began to come in at our 
house, you never heard the like. One was blowing 
a horn, another a harp, another was rolling a wagon, 
another rattling " queensware," and the other — well, 
I do n't know what. As soon as I heard the little 
accounts of the affair, preparation for bed was in 
order. Soon all of them were cozily tucked away 
and fast asleep. "Santa" and I then had a talk. 
"What he had brought each one, and what it cost, 
all came in review before us. We arranged the 
whole business, and let me tell you, it took every 
corner of the room, and part of the vacancy under 
the bed, to complete the arrangement. All was 
done by twelve o'clock. The lights were turned 
out, " Santa" retired, I went to bed, and silence and 



Letters to the Children. 145 

darkness reigned. Long before day — before I was 
awake — there was a jubilee. Each had found his 
" pile," and I can assure you the movements, in all 
pure white, were as graceful as childhood only can 
make them. "What a time ! I have seen nothing 
like it since I was a boy — away back yonder in 
Maryland. I felt happy to see them happy. that 
life may go well with them and all other dear chil^ 
dren! 

Children are compared in one of the Psalms to 
arrows in the hand of a mighty man. It is also 
said, " Blessed is the man who has his quiver full of 
them." Here I think the editor of the Western 
Methodist and "Uncle Bob" come in. Now, chil- 
dren, what do you think? That new baby of 
"Uncle Bob's" didn't get a thing. Aint it too 
bad? What caps the climax is, I went up town 
and found that " Old Santa" had bought every thing 
from one and another, and had them all charged 
to me ! 

"0 come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the 
Lord our maker." 

7 



146 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXVI. 

P's and Q's — New Year — Popping crackers — Little drops of 
water — My little Conference acquaintances — That ghost. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— « They" used to tell me 
when I was a boy that a great deal depended 
upon how one began the week or the year. I was 
led to think it went a " good ways " in determining 
what kind of a time I might expect during each of 
those periods. For instance, we children used to be 
very careful — on our P's and Q's — trying to avoid 
"being whipped on Monday or New Year's, as we 
verily believed it a sure sign of another whipping 
every day during that week or year. I wonder if 
you have n't heard something like it before ! 

As I have not yet lost all my childish impres- 
sions, I thought I would be careful how I began 
1874. Hence this letter is being written Few 
Year's day. The weather is quite gloomy ; a driz- 
zling rain is falling, which greatly interferes with 
fire-works. Not many boys are popping crackers. 
They will have their " dimes " for something else. 
Perhaps some of them will do like that dear little 
Edgar Blakely, now dead, whose mother's letter to 
the Bible Agent, Brother Caldwell, appeared in last 



Letters to the Children. 147 

week's Western Methodist. Did you all read that 
letter? The sum he sent was not large in the eyes 
•of man, but it was in the eyes of the Master, no 
doubt. Reading the letter made me think of an 
.account I read, not long since, in the New Testa- 
ment. It seems that Jesus was sitting over against 
the treasury, looking at the persons who came up to 
-cast in their gifts. Some, it is said, cast in of their 
abundance, and it may be that many made dona- 
tions which, if given in these days, would be pub- 
lished far and wide, and the donors be called saints. 
There was a poor woman (the record says she was a 
widow) came up, and in a humble manner threw in 
two mites (find out how much that was). No doubt 
she felt sorry that her circumstances would not 
permit her to do more, and may be she thought it 
did n't amount to scarcely any thing. If she did, 
she was mistaken; for Jesus said she had given 
more than all of them. She had deprived herself; 
yet the Saviour did not rebuke her, or intimfte that 
she ought not to give it. I think this teaches that 
offerings to God that do not involve some depriva- 
tion amount to very little. Nobody should fail to 
help the Bible or missionary cause because he or 
she has n't much. Remember, the biggest things 
in this world were accomplished little by little. 
Let 's see — how does that verse begin which you all 
have heard ? Ah ! I have it : 

Little drops of water, 

Little grains of sand, 
Make the mighty ocean 

And the pleasant land. 



148 Letters to the Children. 

Little deeds of kindness, 

Little words of love, 
Make our world an Eden, 

Like the heaven above. 

There are so many other things I want to tell 
you, that I do not know where to begin. In No- 
vember, I made a trip to Camden, Ark. The Little 
Rock Conference was held there; and as I was 
anxious to see the bretnren, etc., I thought I would 
go. Traveling about, one often has a good time. 
You have a chance to see things that you aint used 
to. Then, you hear a great deal that you have n't 
heard before. You get into little scrapes and have 
everybody laughing at you, like Brother Hunter did 
that night he got into the water. You would have 
laughed, too, had you been along. He very dryly 
remarked that he could not see where the laugh 
came in ; that did not surprise me at all, for I never 
knew one in his fix that could. Then there are 
some folks that can see more than others, any way 
— that is, they think they can. I have known boys 
who declared that in coming up the road they had 
seen a ghost. They could tell its shape, color, and 
movements — all about it. Upon investigation it 
was found to be a stump, a goose, a turkey, or a 
hog, but never a ghost. No, my dear children, 
there are no such things as ghosts in this world. 
If there were, you could not see them with the eyes 
you now have. The departed are now spiritual 
beings. You are yet in the flesh, consequently you 
cannot perceive spirit. Do n't any of you believe a 
word of the old stories that some of your nurses 



Letters to the Children. 149 

and others tell you about these things, for there is 
no truth in them. 

I was very busy at Conference, hence I did not 
go about much ; yet I made the acquaintance of 
several of my little readers. Some waited at the 
Conference-room for hours to speak to me. Let 's 
see — there were Eddie McCorkle, Willie Whitthong, 
Eva Whitthong, Andrew Whitthong, and Gus Bu- 
chanan, all in one day. I was glad to take them 
by the hand, and felt highly gratified to know 
that my letters had awakened such an interest in 
them. 

Some people write and speak to please the grown 
folks; they skip the children. You, boys, know 
what that word skip means; because, when you 
turned that leaf of your book over before you had 
gotten the lesson on the other side, you know you 
had skipped, and you know you ought not to have 
done it, too — do n't you ? For my part, I will try 
to please the children, for the reason that they are 
to be the grown folks, and if the proper turn can 
be given them before that time arrives, there will 
be no danger of total failure during life. 

Then I went out to Brother Parker's, to see his 
little ones. I think there were six of them — four 
fine boys and two girls. One of the boys is named 
McTyeire. I wonder if he won't be a preacher, and 
then a bishop some day ! If I was one of the offi- 
cial members on the Camden District, I would allow 
Brother Parker a liberal salary, and would n't rest 
until the last dollar was paid. He needs and de- 
serves more than he gets. If you see any of the 



150 Letters to the Children. 

brethren that ought to attend to that matter, yon 
can tell them what I say. 

Eow, children, I want all of you that can read to 
begin with me, as soon as you get this letter, the 
Testament and Psalms. Let 's read them carefully 
all through. As soon as I shall have done, I will 
notify you. I wonder who will be the first to ac- 
complish the profitable work? We shall see. 

It will give me great pleasure to receive letters 
from any of you, at any time. Do n't refuse to 
write because you can't make pretty letters, or have 
not the proper use of language. These things come 
only by practice; hence you must try. 

" For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without 
works is dead also." 



Letters to the Children. 151 



LETTER XXVII. 

The judgment — Holding out faithful — Exercise — The black- 
smith's arm — My German teacher — Slang, etc. 

DEAR CHILDREN" :— I have written, from time 
to time, about one thing and another, and in 
every letter I have endeavored to say something- 
instructive as well as interesting. 

I have talked to you through the paper as I 
should have done had each of you been with me 
around the fireside. I have called your attention to 
many things that I regard as very important in the 
formation of character. 

I have warned one and all against some things 
which are very evil in their tendency, and which 
are common in high as well as low life. 

When I sit and think about you and my own 
dear little ones, as I often do, after you and they are 
locked fast in sleep, and when your little minds are 
flitting here and there, sometimes in pleasant and 
then in ugly dreams, I feel a terrible responsibility. 

I fear lest I shall have to answer for a great deal 
that will be done after I 'm dead. Did you ever 
think of that ? Yes, it will take until the judg- 
ment for our actions to work their results. Did you 



152 Letters to the Children. 

know that that is one of the reasons why the judg- 
ment is .not to be until the last human being shall 
have died, or undergone a change ? You know the 
sum must be worked out before an answer can be 
reported. 

God has made one grand provision for all who 
repent and turn unto him. Nothing counts against 
us after repentance, provided we hold out faithful 
unto the end. 

But if our lives are made up of meanness, and 
our example and influence have been evil, and we 
die without repentance, great will be the weight of 
our iniquity, when the searching sound of the last 
trump shall wake the dead, and we all rise to judg- 
ment — that day when shall be brought to pass the 
saying that is written, "Death is swallowed up in 
victory." Well will it be with you and I, if we do 
not say, with Cain of old, " My iniquity is too great 
to be borne." 

You may think, perhaps, that I am writing a 
little in advance of your comprehension; but you 
must remember that one of the principal objects I 
have in writing is to train your minds — you must 
learn to think. If there is nothing in my letters 
but what you already know, there will be very little 
benefit derived from them. 

It is exercise that develops the muscles of the 
body. Did you ever look at the right arm* of .a 
good blacksmith ? If so, did n't you observe how 
big and strong it looked ? And when he " doubled" 
up his fist, didn't you see the great, cord-like mus- 
cles rise clear up to his elbow? That arm was 



Letters to the Children. 153 

developed by throwing the sledge. If you want 
your minds to grow strong, if you want every de- 
partment of your brains to be in lively exercise, if 
you want grasp of thought, if you want brilliancy 
of intellect, if you want clearness of perception, if 
you want beauty of expression,' you must exercise 
all the faculties with which God has blessed you. 
In order to insure success, you will have to begin 
while you are young, and continue that exercise. 
I can tell you, children, there is nothing like em- 
ployment for mind as well as body. Indeed, the 
mind will work, whether you will or not; and if 
you do not furnish that which is profitable, rest 
assured some enemy will sow tares. I do n't want 
any thing but good seed sown in your minds. Hence 
you must be always at something profitable. You 
have no time to lose. It will keep you busy to do 
your part in the world. 

My German teacher came last Saturday night to 
give me a lesson. He brought me a great long 
written conversation about volcanoes. He handed 
me the paper, and asked me to read. I took hold, 
and me ! what an array of great words there was ! 
I began, and stumbled through after a fashion. I 
made some mistakes; I didn't pronounce every 
word exactly right; but I learned something, nev- 
ertheless. I then expressed surprise that he should 
have brought me so hard a lesson. " Why," said 
he, " I did it on purpose. I want you to master 
words." I caught his idea, and said no more. He 
closed the lesson at this juncture. I can tell you, 
boys, I was glad — almost as glad as you are, some- 
7* 



154 Letters to the Children. 

times, when the preacher announces his last " head," 
and closes the book. 

There is one thing that I have had in my mind 
for some time to say to you all, especially to the 
girls. It is in regard to what we call slang. I hear 
it frequently among the young ladies who are about 
grown ; and I assure you it always makes me feel 
bad. If anybody is to talk " slang," let it be some- 
body else. I would suggest, however, that there is 
an elegant English that is far better. It doesn't 
sound very well to hear a young lady, when asked 
if she will go with you, answer, " Not much;" or to 
do something, " Can't see it;" or after being intro- 
duced to a young man, "I intend to go for him;" 
or when mother or sister asks her to assist in some 
household duty, "Not for Joe." I was fellow-clerk 
some years ago with a young man whom I will call 
Sam. He left, and I lost sight of him. Passing up 
Main street, a year or so afterward, who should I 
meet but Sam. I was glad to see him. I took him 
by the hand, and said, "Well, Sam, how do you 
do?" He grinned, and, in the most careless way 
imaginable, said, "O.I'm all settin!" Now, I hear 
all these things often; and sometimes, I am sorry 
to say, very intellectual and well-bred young ladies 
fall into the habit. Some think it is smart; and 
often it is indulged with a pertness more saucy than 
becoming. "I bet," or "You bet," and other like 
phrases, sound little and ridiculous enough among 
men who make no pretensions to refinement. But 
it is entirely out of taste for such expressions to 
issue from the lips of a young lady. 






Letters to the Children. 155* 

I trust, therefore, that my readers will think 
twice before they speak once, and avoid all such ex- 
pressions. If you want your words to have weight, 
if you want them highly appreciated, choose them 
well. Above all, let them be pure. 

Since my last, I have received letters from Sallie 
Kerr, Maggie and Jane, Estell Jaggers, " Blanche," 
Cora Bell, " Fannie," Eugene Moss, Clara Kendrick, 
Annie, Willie Kelton, A. N. Powell, Jimmie, and 
Walter E. Williams. Walter thinks I have forgot- 
ten him, but he mistakes; I have thought of him 
often since that night I took supper with him. I 
highly prize every one of those letters. 

" Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit 1 there is more hope' 
of a fool than of him." 



156 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXVIII. 

About midnight — The sleet — In the morning — Trees bent 
down — A beautiful sight- — Theophilus. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— The weather this winter, 
so far, except for a few days, has been quite mild. 
About two weeks ago, just as the evening, or, as 
you all say in the country, night began, somebody 
said that it was raining. About midnight I was up, 
and every now and then I heard a sizzing noise in 
the fire-place. I went to the window and listened. 
I could hear the particles fall — the sound was about 
like shot on straw. I knew at once that it was 
what we all call sleeting. I felt very comfortable 
to know that I was safely housed, and by a big fire. 
Somehow I feel better and more grateful on such 
occasions for the comforts I have than at any other 
time. You know I am more forcibly reminded then. 
In the morning the little particles had ceased to 
fall, but they had done their work. Every thing 
was covered with a coat of ice. Some trees, which 
the evening before stood erect, were broken — de- 
stroyed; others were bent beneath their load, and 
in some cases their very tops touched the ground. 
The clouds obstructed the rays of the rising sun, 
but the light we had reflected the sparkle of the 



Letters to the Children. 157 

heavenly jewelry. The green and crystal were in 
beautiful contrast. I walked up town, and as I 
walked I reflected. 1 thought that those trees, some 
broken off at the trunk, others with sad havoc of 
limbs, and others bowed so low, were a fit represen- 
tation of mankind under sin. Since Adam's fall 
the storm has prevailed. Many a noble form, once 
erect, now lies among the wrecks of the past, or 
bows low under the weight of accumulated sins. 

The weather moderated toward noon. The sun 
shone out, the ice began to melt, and before night 
a great many trees were lifting up their heads again. 
Next day they stood erect once more. I then had 
another thought. I thought that was a fit repre- 
sentation of all who had come under the influence 
of the Sun of righteousness. Many a time has it 
been the case that people have lived from childhood 
to age, sinning a little every day, and never repent- 
ing until they were almost lost, and when, perhaps, 
every one thought they were lost, and came near 
saying so; and then, happily for them, through the 
instrumentality of some servant of God, the Divine 
Spirit has wrought with their souls, and turned 
them from darkness to light; or, in other words, 
they have been made to see and feel their sinful 
condition, and been converted. After conversion 
they begin, like the bended tree, to straighten, and, 
after living some time under the influences of the 
new life, they stand perfectly erect — reinstated. 

I have received many letters since last week — one 
from Mollie T. Burkhead, Clarksville, Ark. She 
wants me to tell her who Theophilus was. Well, I 



158 Letters to the Children. 

will endeavor to give her all the light upon that 
subject I can. In the first place, he was the person 
rto whom St. Luke inscribes his Gospel and The Acts 
of the Apostles. His name is derived from two 
Greek words, "Theos" and "Philos," which, being 
interpreted, may be read, "Friend of God." Some 
of the fathers, I am informed, doubted the person- 
ality of Theophilus. They regarded the name as 
applicable to every Christian reader. 

Josephus, however, in his Antiquities, says : " The 
Homan Prefect Yitellius came to Jerusalem to the 
Passover in the year A.D. 37, and deposed Caiaphas 
and appointed Jonathan in his place. In the same 
year, at the feast of Pentecost, he came to Jerusa- 
lem and deprived Jonathan of the high-priesthood, 
which he gave to Theophilus." He says farther: 
"Theophilus was removed by Herod Agrippa the 
First, after the accession of that priirce to the gov- 
ernment of Judea in the year A.D. 41. So that he 
must have continued in office about five years." 

The Eev. Wm. Basil Jones says: "That Theoph- 
ilus is not mentioned by name in the E"ew Testa- 
ment, but that it is most probable that he was the 
liigh-priest who granted a commission to Saul to 
proceed to Damascus and to take charge of any be- 
lievers whom he might find there." 

So much on account of "Theophilus." Excuse 
me for writing in this way, but if you ask such 
questions I will not know how to avoid it. 

" Some men's sins are open beforehand, going before to judgment ; 
and some men they follow after. Likewise also the good works of 
some are manifest beforehand ; and they ihat are otherwise cannot 
be hid." 



Letters to the Children. 159 



LETTER XXIX. 

Reading Kollin's History — Cyrus the Great — Making her d6but 
— The sovereign of the world — Alexander's sisters make 
their brother's clothes — Reading yellow-backs. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I was reading Kollin's 
Ancient History the other day, and I came to a 
passage that impressed me very forcibly. It treated 
of a subject of great importance, and as you all are 
interested, and as I wish to speak plainly to you in 
regard to the matter alluded to, I will tell you what 
Mr. Rollin says. He was on the subject of the rev- 
erence and respect that children had for their par- 
ents in ancient times. 

The Persians, for example, were a vain and 
haughty people, yet the reverence which they showed 
their parents was a matter of remark among the 
writers of history. 

Rollin says that Cyrus the Great, in the midst of 
his conquests, and at the most exalted pitch to 
which fortune had raised him, would not accept of 
the advantageous offer made him by Cyaxares, his 
uncle, viz., of giving him his daughter in marriage, 
and Media for her dowry, till he had first advised with 
his father and mother, and obtained their consent. 

He says that among the Persians a son never 
dared to seat himself before his mother till he had 



160 Letters to the Children. 

first obtained her leave. To do otherwise was con- 
sidered a crime. 

Alas ! how different is the style in these days ! It 
has been turned "end for end," so to say. The lit- 
tle children, and some not so little, assume all the 
airs of superiority, and in some respects ignore par- 
ental authority altogether. 

I have seen in my travels children who treated 
their parents with less respect than any good parent 
would treat his child. I have heard them dictate 
to their mother. I have, heard them speali as if 
they were ashamed of her. I have heard them tell 
her they wouldn't and they would. I have heard 
them contradict her. I have heard them cry, and 
seen them pout, because they couldn't wear their 
best clothes every day. I have heard them say they 
wished they were somebody else's children, so they 
could do as they please. I have heard of young 
ladies who not only did not ask the consent of their 
parents to marry, but who married directly against 
their will, and married sots at that. No child ought 
to do that way. I feel sorrow, mingled with con- 
tempt, for all such. I feel sorry, for I know they 
will sup sorrow before long. Yes, a disobedient, 
disrespectful, and ungrateful child will have a " hard 
row to weed," as well as gather a very unsatisfactory 
crop. A passage of scripture occurs to me just here 
that is applicable. Listen, and after you have heard 
it, look for it and get it by heart : 

The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey 
his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out and the 
young eagles shall eat it. 



Letters to the Children. 161 

I know some of you will say that you must " sow 
your wild oats." Sowing the wild oats would not 
be so bad if it wasn't for having to gather them. 
Did you ever think of that? People always reap 
what they sow ; wild oats produce wild oats — noth- 
ing else. 

Who can tell me where the passage in the Bible 
is that says : " Be not deceived : God is not mocked; 
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also 
reap." I will tell you this much : it is in one of Paul's 
letters, but which ? You find that out, if you can. 

I fear there is a growing disposition among the 
young ladies of our time to ignore the fact that they 
were made for nobler ends than many of them are 
pursuing. How few girls, grown, know how to 
make a biscuit, or cook a ham, or stir up and bake 
a hoe-cake, or make a shirt, or a dress ! How few 
that really know how to dress themselves, after 
every thing has been made to order! They think 
they know, and will pile it on and on, until they 
scare almost all the young men out of the notion of 
ever getting married. They overdo, and hence undo. 
It is the " style," I believe, for the young lady who 
has made her debut (look after that word, dibut), 
to dress fine, sit in the parlor, drum the piano, and 
receive calls during the day, while her mother is in 
another part of the house singing, perhaps, the 
"song of the shirt." At night she is off at a ball, 
or at the theater, until the small hours of the morn- 
ing. She then hurries to bed, without even saying 
her prayers, there to lie until toward noon next 
day. She rises and spends the rest of the day, per- 



162 Letters to the Children. 

haps, in reading some love-sick tale in a yellow-back 
book that cost twenty-five cents, and then tries to 
make herself and others believe she is happy, and 
filling her place with dignity and propriety. What 
a sad mistake she makes! How differently thought 
the ancients — those of noble blood in Homer's time ! 
Ladies of rank in that day drew water for them- 
selves, from springs, and washed with their own 
hands the linen of their respective families. Alex- 
ander's sisters, the daughters of a powerful prince, 
made their brother's clothes. The celebrated Lu- 
cretia used to spin in the midst of her attendants. 

Augustus, who was sovereign of the world, wore, 
for several years together, no other clothes but what 
his wife and sister made him. It used to be cus- 
tomary for the princesses who sat upon the throne 
to prepare several dishes at every meal. "In a 
word," says Mr. E-ollin, " needle- work, the care of 
domestic affairs, a serious and retired life, is the 
proper function of woman ; and for this they were 
designed by Providence. The depravity of the age 
has indeed affixed to these customs, which are very 
near as old as the creation, an idea of meanness and 
■contempt; but what has it substituted for the vigor- 
ous exercise which a just education enabled the sex 
to undertake? A soft indolence, a stupid idleness, 
frivolous conversations, vain amusements, a strong 
passion for public show, and a frantic love of gam- 
ing." Now, compare the two, and say yourself 
which can boast of being founded on good, sound, 
solid judgment, and a love of truth and nature. 

Two little girls, Mary and Susie, living at Oil 



Letters to the Children. 163 

Trough, Ark., want to know how long darkness 
prevailed upon the face of the deep, or abyss, at the 
creation. My answer is, Until God said, " Let there 
be light, and there was light." Another letter came 
from a dear child who wants me to give her love to 
all the orphans. She says she is an orphan, and 
knows how to sympathize with them. I want that 
dear little one, as well as the rest of you, to turn to 
the 68th Psalm, and read the 5th verse. I want 
you all to write to me — it will help you. 

" For the Lord God is a sun and shield ; the Lord will give grace 
and glory : no good thing will he withhold from them that walk 
mprightly." 



164 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXX. 

Traveling around — Keeping your eyes open — Ask your 
mother to help you — That " barefooted cart " — Mr. Shackle- 
ford — The raid on the egg-box. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— You will remember, a 
few weeks ago I told you that in traveling 
around we had a chance to hear things that we 
had n't heard before. Some things we hear sound 
very strange, and put us to wondering what they 
mean. 

When I am away from home, I keep both eyes 
and ears open ; by that means I both see and hear a 
great deal. By the way, do any of you know why 
it is that we all have two eyes, and two ears, and 
two hands, and only one mouth and one tongue? 
I will wait just one week, and see if any of you can 
give me a satisfactory answer. If you do n't " hit 
the nail square on the head," I'll do it myself just 
one week after. 

You would laugh if you could be at my house 
some day, when I arrive from Mississippi or Ar- 
kansas. Pronounce that last word this way — Ar- 
kan-saw. Bishop McTyeire pronounces it that way, 
and I can tell you I have come to believe that he is 



Letters to the Children. 165 

generally about right in most things. I would like 
for all my readers to learn to do things as he does 
them. 

If I do n't mind, I will get clear off the subject — 
won't I ? Well, I was going to tell you that when 
I get home I have all the children and "Aunt Bob " 
just as close around me as I can get them. After I 
find out how they all are, and how they all have 
been while I was gone, and asked if all have been 
good, and if they have said their prayers night and 
morning, and if the children have -been to school 
every day, and if they have had perfect lessons, and 
if they went to Sunday-school every Sunday, I am 
ready, first, to hear all they have to tell me. Fre- 
quently that is a big job; but by having two or 
three of them, and sometimes all, talking at once, a 
conclusion is reached. Then my turn comes. 

You know, I said that I kept my eyes and ears 
open — just the way you must do when you go away 
from home, especially if you are where there is a 
chance to learn any thing good. 

I do not suppose any of my readers would go 
purposely anywhere else; but in case any of you 
should accidentally go into bad company, allow me 
to make a single suggestion. It is this : get out as 
soon as you possibly can ; because the Bible says, 
"Evil communications corrupt good manners." 
Which of you wants your good manners corrupt- 
ed ? I will answer that question myself : Not one. 

No, my dear children; you cannot afford it. Re- 
member, a good name, a clear record, is better and 
more to be desiied than thousands of gold and 



166 Letters to the Children. 

silver; and just think, these very valuable things 
are within reach of every one of you. 

Be jealous of your good name ; act always so 
that you will be above suspicion ; do n't go any- 
where, do n't do or say any thing, that you would 
be ashamed to have known. 

If any thing presents itself, and there is any doubt 
about the propriety of it, always give yourselves 
the benefit of the doubt ; you '11 not regret it, in the 
end. 

It may be that, at the time, to do so will seem 
unprofitable ; but if you will observe those who go- 
ahead without regard to consequences, you will find 
that the course I suggest is best by far. 

I give you these few thoughts to turn over in 
your minds ; study them well. Ask your mother ta 
help you ; ask your father to turn them round, so 
you can comprehend them altogether. 

I was going on to say that, after all get quiet, I 
begin to tell what I have seen and heard during my 
absence that I think will interest the children. 

I remember, when I returned from the Little 
Rock Conference, last December, I told them of a 
certain kind of cart I had heard of, and had them 
all guessing what it could mean. They never came 
anywhere near it. Finally, I told them. Now, you 
guess awhile, and, if you " can't come it," let me 
know, and 1 11 tell you, too. 

I was talking with a gentleman about the Ar- 
kansas people moving so much. I told him that 
that was the reason, in my opinion, so many of 
them got along so poorly. You have heard this 



Letters to the Children. 167 

before, have n't you — "A rolling stone gathers no 
moss " ? He agreed with me, and then told me of 
a man that he knew who had been in the State 
twenty -eight years, and had moved twenty -nine 
times. When he started from Mississippi he had 
only fifty cents in cash, and hauled all his other 
effects in a " barefooted cart." That was a queer 
kind of expression to me, and I thought it was a 
wonderful cart, too. 

That is almost equal to the answer an old colored 
man down in Mississippi gave to Brother Page 
some time ago, when he asked him where he lived. 
He said, " I live on Chicken-thief Road, Hicka- 
haley Creek, on Mr. Shackleford's place, sorter be- 
tween Buck-snort and Wink-out." The way to 
find out things is to ask those who know. Never 
be ashamed to acknowledge that you don't know, 
when you do n't. You will learn faster by so doing. 

Before I close, I must answer a couple of ques- 
tions asked by three little ones that are reading the 
Testament and Psalms with me. I cannot afford to 
neglect any who take my advice — no, not I. Now 
for the answers. First: Mark says the poor widow 
threw in two mites, which make a farthing. A 
farthing is one half-cent in our money. Second: 
The rock which Moses smote, and from which water 
gushed out, was in Horeb — which means dry — situ- 
ated somewhere in the desert through which the 
children of Israel journeyed on their way to Ca- 
naan. Moses named the place Massah, signifying- 
temptation, and Meribah, strife. Mr. Shaw, in his 
" Travels," says : " Here (in the plain of Rephidim) 



168 Letters to the Children. 

stands the rock of Meribah, uninjured by time or 
accident. It is a granite block of about six yards 
square, and totters, as it were, in the middle of the 
valley. It seems to have formerly belonged to 
Mount Sinai, which hangs in a variety of precipices 
all over this plain." He says the channel that the 
water made is about two inches deep and twenty 
wide, and that it has the appearance of the inside of 
a tea-kettle that has been long in use. 

On the editorial page of last week's paper there 
is a letter from Fairview, Ark. I hope you read 
that letter. It shows how easy the subscription- 
price for a whole year can be raised. It seems that 
the four girls mentioned had been saving eggs to 
buy a new dress apiece; but rather than do without 
the Western Methodist, they "made a raid" upon the 
box that held them, and only took out eight dozen, 
which were enough to secure all the money needed. 
Just think of it! fifty-two copies of the Western 
Methodist for eight dozen eggs! I will venture to 
say that if you will add up the columns of reading- 
matter that will appear in the next fifty-two num- 
bers, it will be more than you could buy in books 
for ten dollars — -just five times as much as the paper 
costs. Now, if the subscription -money is any ob- 
ject at your house, I want to make a suggestion. 
It is this : get your mother to give you an old Dom- 
inique (Dominicker) hen. Who can tell me which 
is the correct way of spelling this word? You call 
her "Methodist," and treat her well; and if she 
do n't lay eggs enough to renew your subscription 
before the time expires, you may — well, you may 



Letters to the Children. 



169 



charge the balance to me. I am satisfied, if my 
Jittle readers knew how much it costs to publish the 
paper, they would all try to help us. 

"Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that 
build it." 

8 



170 Letters to the Children. 



LETTEB XXXI. 

Different kinds of scrapes — Less than fifty years — Learning 
to chew tobacco — Got sick — Banquo's .ghost — Casting out 
the burden of my complaint — Cherry pone — The French. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I expect that the most of 
you have learned before this that there are 
many different kinds of scrapes into which folks 
get. I have told you of several that I've been in 
myself, but you needn't think that I've told you all. 
I have been a little like the darkey was who went 
to his master and said, " Massa, one of them steers 
is dead, and t' other one too. I did n't like to tell 
you of both at once, cause I was afeerd you could n't 
stood it." 

Something less than fifty years ago I was going 
to primary school No. 26, Howard county, Md. It 
was a regular old-fashioned country-school, and the 
only one I ever attended. College sounded away 
off to me. Educational facilities were not as nu- 
merous as now. The boys and girls of to-day have 
a much better chance of becoming well educated 
than those of my day. I wonder if they are tak- 
ing advantage of it. I remember all the teachers 
I ever had. There were a great many folks to please 



Letters to the Children. 171 

in the neighborhood, consequently we had a new" 
teacher every now and then. 

Strange to say, every time we had a change of 
teachers we had a change of books too; that was 
strange to me then, but as it has been the way ever 
since, only a little more so, I have ceased to wonder; 
for now the books are changed several times under 
the same teacher, and that, too, before the former 
ones have been half completed. 

The little time I've been sending my children,- 
and there are not more than a half dozen of them r 
I reckon the books that have gone out of use — been- 
"laid on the shelf" — in my house, would be enough 
to begin a small school. It is time that our South- 
ern country had standard books that could be "tied 
to." I never saw any sense in so much change. It 
has a tendency, as little as may be thought of it, to' 
make the children fickle. But I am getting off the- 
track — I started out to* tell you of another one of 
those scrapes. 

I am not sure but it was about the biggest I ever 
got into. You know almost every boy thinks it- 
looks mannish to smoke cigars and chew tobacco^ 
I remember that is what I used to think myself. 
But now, as I look back, I can see how wrong I 
was. I have even heard that there are some young" 
ladies that use snuff — use it on the sly. I wonder 
if that is so. If it is, I want to say to those who* 
do, that they can't keep it secret long. Their very 
complexion will reveal it — nervous debility, dyspep- 
sia, arrest of mental development, all will, like so* 
many tongues, speak oral, 



172 Letters to the Children. 

I knew several .young men at school whom I 
thought models. I thought they were accomplished, 
not because of their learning, but because they could 
whip all the other boys, and could smoke and chew 
without getting sick. 

I was so exercised upon the points to which I've 
alluded, that I concluded to "ape" them. (Look 
after that word, ape.) I tried my hand several times 
at fighting. I do n't remember that the result was 
ever attended with any degree of satisfaction to me. 
Borne people think they were intended for certain 
things, and sometimes they are woefully mistaken. 
I am satisfied that I was never intended for a fighter, 
and yet I think I was as much so intended as any 
boy is. The main point is to avoid difficulties — not 
to get into them. If half the pains were taken to 
keep out of trouble that is taken to get in, and to 
.get out after getting in, there would be but little in 
the world. 

The next thing was to learn how to chew tobacco. 
Alfred Scaggs used to have some as black as your 
hat, and very sweet. I believe he called it the 
"honey-dew." At recess I would beg a piece of 
him, put it in my mouth along with a small scrap 
of liquorice — we used to pronounce it "lickrish" — 
•or a little calamus ; chew a few minutes, and then 
turn it out. I came very near keeping it in too 
long several times. 

I continued the mixture for some time. One day, 
in the afternoon, I concluded that I would take a 
chew of tobacco by itself. I chewed and spit at a 
great rate. I started home with some in my mouth, 



Letters to the Children. 173* 

and a piece in my pocket. Just before I reached 
the house I cleared my mouth, and behind the 
house, in some familiar crack, I laid carefully away 
what was in my pocket. I did all this, you know, 
to keep father and mother from catching me. I 
hadn't been in the house long before I didn't feel 
so well. I moved around considerably. 

Supper was being prepared, and I think there 1 
was a great lightened cherry pone on hand. By the- 
way, that is about as good a thing as you ever ate, 
too. I was wonderfully fond of it, and so sorry 
that I didn't have any appetite; no, not a bit. Dear 
me, how sick I was ! It is no use for me or any- 
body else to undertake to describe the feeling — it 
can't be done. It has to be experienced in order to 
be appreciated; and no one but a perfect fool would 
be willing to undergo the thing just to learn how 
it feels. By the time supper was announced I was 
as pale as Banquo's ghost, and with as little specu- 
lation in my eyes. I took my seat, but it was more 
uncomfortable than it had ever been before. It 
seemed to me that "father's grace" was longer than 
ever, yet he was always brief — he was a man of 
few words. My dear step-mother was greatly con- 
cerned. She remarked that her dear boy was sick. 
I said, Yes'm, and left the table with the great 
sweat-drops just boiling out of my forehead. I 
rushed out of doors and cast out the burden of my 
complaint hurriedly. I then staggered back into 
the house about as " limber as a rag." I was kindly 
undressed and put to bed, where I was glad to get. 
I was ashamed of myself. I knew I had done 



"174 Letters to the Children. 

wrong. I had gone against my father's wishes. I 
had deceived my mother. I had injured myself. I 
was a naughty boy. I couldn't feel otherwise than 
shabby. After awhile I got to sleep. 

In the morning I was better, but not well. I 
did n't get over it for some days. But I tell you 
what I did d©.: I gave up tobacco- chewing. I do 
not think I ever did a better day's work in my life. 
I have saved hundreds of dollars; I have saved 
iiealth; I have kept a clean mouth; I have been 
snore genteel. Indeed, I can't more than begin to 
•estimate the advantages ; it would take up too much 
space. Now, boys, take my advice, and let tobacco 
alone. If you will, you will have more cash on 
hand, you will have better health, you will have 
stronger minds, your thoughts will be more vigor- 
ous ; in a word, your chances for a long and satis- 
factory life will be greatly increased. 

The French made an inquiry some time ago into 
the effects of tobacco in the colleges. They discov- 
ered the difference in the physical and intellectual 
standing of those who used it, and those who did 
not, to be so great, that Louis Napoleon issued an 
edict that no smoking should be permitted in any 
college or school. This edict in one day put out 
about thirty thousand pipes in Paris alone. In the 
•competitive examinations in the military schools of 
France, the smokers of tobacco occupy the lowest 
place. Sir Charles Hastings says that the most se- 
vere case of epilepsy he ever saw was in a boy twelve 
^ears old, who had been a smoker two years, and 
.recovered only when he desisted from its use. The 



Letters to the Children. 175 

London Times, of 1865, says, M. Jolly, before the 
Academy of Medicine in Paris, declared that for 
forty years, from 17-92 to 1832, during which time 
the revenue from tobacco was about the same, the 
lunatic asylums of France contained about eight 
thousand patients; but when the demand for the 
article increased, and the revenue went up from 
twenty -eight million francs to one hundred and 
eighty million francs, there were not less than forty- 
four thousand paralytic and lunatic patients in the 
Institutions devoted to their accommodation. He 
also affirms that in proportion as tobacco was used 
in that empire, was the increase of nervous diseases 
and cancerous affections. Quoting from the Lon- 
don Lancet for 1862, M. Dumesnel writes that the 
quantity in weight used in America alone, is equal 
to the bread which would sustain ten millions of 
people. 

Clean faces, clean clothes, clean shoes, and clean 
finger-nails, indicate good breeding. Never leave 
your clothes about the room. Have a place for 
every thing, and every thing in its place. 

"Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all 
things : now they do it to obtain a corrnptible crown, but we an 
incorruptible." 



176 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXXII. 

Heading the New Testament together — Bishop Paine' s expla- 
nation — John and William — Mushroom development. 

DEAR CHILDREN":— What a variety of 
letters I have received during the past few 
weeks ! They have come from every point of the 
compass. 

How glad I am to hear that so many are reading 
the Testament and Psalms with me ! To think that 
I have influenced so many to do that one thing does 
me a great deal of good. I have read the chapters 
many a time before, but I find something fresh each 
time ; in fact, the book is like a kaleidoscope — every 
time you turn it, new and still beautiful develop- 
ments are made. 

Ask your mother, or your father, or your big 
brother, or your elder sister who has been to board- 
ing-school, to tell you something about that word 
" kaleidoscope." 

Week before last, I asked you why we all have 
two hands, two eyes, and two ears, and but one 
mouth. I did not expect the " nail to be hit so 
squarely on the head " as it has been done by three 
little friends — Flora C. Meaders, Blanche Brooks, 



Letters to the Children. 177 

and Cora Bell. They all give the same reason, and 
I think they are right about it. 

They say we are to see, hear, and do a great deal, 
and talk but little. Bishop Paiue told my little 
folks, the last time he was at my house, that they 
were* to see, hear, and do just twice as much as they 
talked. I make a motion, now, that we accept the 
bishop's explanation and act upon it. What say 
you? 

Let me warn you, my dear children, just here. 
So many people talk to6 much ! It has always been 
so — as far back as we have any record. Eve even 
talked a little too much in Eden ; the result is still 
operating. 

One of the ]S"ew Testament writers gives us some 
forcible declarations in regard to the unbridled 
tongue. When you come to the place, pause awhile 
and read slow. I do not know but it would be a 
good idea to spell every word. I make this sugges- 
tion for the .reason that my teacher, when there is 
something he is particularly anxious for me to know 
— a word, for example — he spells it out for me, and 
then tells me to do it. He has a reason for it, and 
I do not know any better than to do just as he tells 
me. Children ought always to do that way ; but, 
from all I can learn, there are some who have lived 
but a very short time, and yet they presume to know 
more than both father and mother. They know 
better what kind of company they ought to keep; 
they know better what kind of books and papers 
they ought to read, and all that. John and Wil- 
liam know that the corn and cotton have been 
8* 



178 Letters to the Children. 

worked enough, and ought to be " laid b} ," long 
before their father does. They know there is no 
use in this, that, and the other requirement, much 
better than their parents. That is what I call mush- 
room development. It spreads out smartly, but it 's 
so soft! I do n't like it a bit. 

Several have written about the " barefooted cart." 
One little girl says that she can't imagine what kind 
of cart it is, unless it is like her father's — drawn by 
oxen. Another says it is a cart without horses; 
another, that the man walked without shoes, and 
carried his clothes on his back. Well, well, how 
you all have missed it ! You are just as far from 
it as my children were; and yet how easy it is! 
Every thing seems easy, after we learn — do n't it? 
And too often we do n't have half the patience that 
we ought, with those who do n't know. We forget 
how we had to tug, and others had to tug with us, 
before we learned. Never get cross or fretful when 
you are trying to teach, if you see the scholar try- 
ing; remember he has enough to bear without that. 

ISTow I will tell you about the cart. It was called 
barefooted because there were no iron tires on the 
wheels. - 1 imagine I hear each of you saying, 
"Pshaw! why didn't I think of that?" 

I received a letter from a nice little girl away up 
at Fort Smith, Ark., who says she would like to 
have my letters in a book. Suppose I do have them 
put in that shape, with my likeness, some day — 
would you begin to " save the eggs " ? Your letters 

came, dear " Bonnie." Thank you. Loula R. T 

writes me a nice letter from Gibson county, Tenn. 



Letters to the Children. 179 

She wants me to tell her who Cain's wife was. I 
do n't know ; neither is it important to be known, 
from the fact that there are a great many people 
living now that it would be as hard to trace their 
pedigree as that of Mrs. Cain, and yet I do not see 
that they are any the worse or better for it. 

" The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom ; and before 
honor is humility." 



180 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXXIII. 

People ought to be as good as their word — That lawyer — 
Altering the case — Scrub-oaks — Not doing as you would be 
done by — Talking about others — Being polite. 

DEAR CHILDREN: — People ought to be as 
good as their word ; their word ought to be 
as good as their bond. I would n't give much for 
the integrity of anybody who fails to do right, deal 
justly, because of legal informality. 

People who profess to belong to the kingdom of 
God, while they are subject to, must still be above, 
human law. 

The Psalmist David, in giving an account of the 
characteristics of the dwellers in God's house, says: 
" He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth 
not" — that is, agrees to something that afterward 
turns out to his disadvantage, and stands to it nev- 
ertheless. You know, some folks do n't like to 
stand to a bad bargain, especially when it is against 
them ; it do n't matter so much who else it dam- 
ages. 

They are like that lawyer told of in an old-school 
" Reader," to whom a farmer submitted a case one 



Letters to the Children. 181 

tune. It is about this way, I think, he stated it : 
" Suppose my ox had gored yours and killed him, 
what do you think I ought to do ? " " Why," said 
the lawyer, " as an honorable man, you would pay 
me for him, of course." "But," says the farmer, 
" it was your ox that killed mine." "Ah ! " said the 
lawyer, " that alters the case ! " 

There are a great many people just like that law- 
yer; they want every thing on their side. I know 
it's human nature to do that way; but human 
nature, as it stands now, needs correction. 

We are bound by the law of God to recognize the 
rights of others. TTe cannot live to ourselves with- 
out doing violence to ourselves, as well as to the 
divine law. 

I mention this just now, because I know both 
boys and girls are inclined to be selfish, and I want 
them to guard against it. Do n't let it grow upon 
you, if you desire a vigorous soul in the evening of 
life's journey. 

I never thought selfish people had much of a soul, 
any way. I have imagined that they are like the 
scrub-oaks you 've seen in the woods by the road- 
side — short, rough, knotty — you could n't even get 
a good switch from a dozen of them : and who ever 
heard of one of them being split ? They are fit for 
nothing but to burn, and hardly that. 

It is very ugly to see little sisters and brothers 
get something good, and run away off to themselves 
and eat it all without saying any thing about it, and 
then tantalize the others by telling them what a 
nice time they have had, and how fine it was. They 



182 Letters to the Children. 

are not doing as they would be done by, wben they 
do that way. 

You ought always to divide with your brothers 
and sisters; that will make them remember you 
when they get something. 

There is another thing to which I wish to call 
your attention, and guard you particularly against. 
It is tattling. What a disposition there is in that 
direction ! It is not confined to childhood, although 
the most of folks who tattle began it when they 
were little. It runs like a fiery gleam through 
almost every grade of society. 

It does n't sound well to hear other people's faults 
brought up and discussed when they are absent. It 
always makes me think that whoever does it is, to 
say the least, careless about the reputation of the 
party — and that no one ought to be, for we should 
be the guardians of each other's good name ; there- 
fore, I suggest that you never say this or that one 
is mean, stingy, or cross, behind his back. Even 
admitting that it is so, it will do no good. It will in- 
crease the inclination in you to speak of faults ; you 
will become uncharitable ; your heart will lose all 
its generous feelings, if you give way to this inclina- 
tion. Tell all the good you know about people; 
that will tend to elevate the better feelings ; it will 
give tone and a higher pitch to the aspirations of 
others. That, you know, would do good. More 
folks ought to be doing good than there are. 

Always be polite. Say, " Yes, sir," " No, sir." 
"When you go to bed, say, " Good-night." Do n't 
make fun of lame or otherwise unfortunate people*.. 



Letters to the Children. 188 

Pay special attention to the poor. Do n't make any 
remark that you think will injure any one's feel- 
ings. Never treat dumb animals badly. Eemem- 
ber, they can't complain, but they can suffer; do n't 
forget to feed and water them regularly. Let the 
birds' nests alone. Never say " how " or " which " 
for " what." Good spelling, writing, and grammar 
lie at the foundation of all good education. 

" Riches profit not in the day of wrath; but righteousness deliv- 
ereth from death." 



184 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXXIV. 

The midshipman's request — Egypt — The Grea> Desert — 
Joseph — Pharaoh — Moses — Fine linen — King Amasis — 
Splitting stone — The Great Pyramid. 

DEAR CHILDREN :— I suppose you have been 
reading the " Midshipman's Narrative," by 
Captain Gift — have n't you ? 

You know, a few weeks ago he called upon me 
to give a letter about Egypt, the Dead Sea, the 
Great Desert, the physical geography of the coun- 
try — a host of things, either one of which would, 
if fairly dealt with, make a book. 

I wish I was able to do all the captain calls for ; 
but time and space have both claims upon me. 

I know there are a great many things that could 
be told about that wonderful country and people 
that would interest you all greatly; but I will have 
to content myself with simply telling enough to let 
you know that I have read about them. All I 
know myself is from books. I never traveled there, 
but I have often wished to do so. 

You who have read the Bible know that the Jews 
were in captivity there for hundreds of years ; that 
it was the birthplace of Moses, God's lawgiver; 



Letters to the Children. 185 

and that Joseph, who used to wear a coat of many 
colors, was sold by his brethren to some traveling 
traders, and was carried by them to Pharaoh. The 
term Pharaoh is generic, and simply means the king 
that then reigned. There is no certainty as to what 
his real name was. Mr. Bunsen thought that it was 
Sesertisen of the twelfth dynasty, because a fam- 
ine was mentioned as having occurred during that 
period. Eusebius thought it was the shepherd 
Apophis. Mr. Smith rather inclines to the latter 
opinion, and gives the high position to which he 
advanced Joseph as a reason; but adds, " That may 
be due to divine interposition." The character of 
that reign was, says the same authority, predomi- 
nately Shemite. Hence it was not strange, after 
all, that Joseph was so highly preferred. 

You must bear in mind that " Joseph's Pharaoh" 
was not the one that so cruelly treated the Israel- 
ites. I call your attention to this, because I remem- 
ber when I thought he was one and the same. 

You know that it is stated in the Bible that " a 
new king arose, which knew not Joseph." Under 
him the Israelites suffered. In the first place, he 
ordered all the male children to be killed at birth. 
The doctors feared God, it is said, and disregarded 
that order. 

He then charged all his people to throw every 
Hebrew male child in the River Mle. This order 
seems to have been observed, because we read that 
Moses was found near the shore in a basket made 
of rushes. His mother had taken this precaution, 
rather than risk the cruel Egyptians. She pre- 



186 Letters to the Children. 

pared the little vessel, and launched it with its 
precious freight herself. There were no "top" or 
"main" sails, or "rudder-bands," or mighty en- 
gines, on that craft. It was a simple structure, but 
God was the pilot. 

It was guided near to shore. Pharaoh's daughter 
saw it, and perhaps the little passenger looked smil- 
ingly through its tears into her face. She was de- 
lighted, and, having no child, determined to take 
him and rear him as her own. I do n't know how 
old he then was, but it is evident that he had not 
been weaned, because she immediately inquired for 
a nurse. Full of anxiety, his sister, who had been 
waiting to see what would become of him, inquired 
if she should go and procure one from the Hebrew 
women. Pharaoh's daughter said, " Go." She went, 
and who do you think she brought ? Why, Moses's 
own mother ! Do n't you reckon she cried for joy 
when she took the little fellow in her arms once 
more ? I should n't wonder if she did. 

Not much is really known of Moses after that, 
until he became a man. All that the record says 
is, that he grew and became the son of Pharaoh's 
daughter. She called him Moses because she drew 
him out of the water — Hebrew, " Mashah," to draw 
out, being the meaning of the name. 

The Egyptians wer£ a highly - educated people; 
and, as a beautiful writer has said, " While the 
Greeks, young in knowledge, sounded a trumpet 
before them, and called on all the world to admire 
their ability, old Egypt had grown gray in wisdom, 
and was so secure of her acquirements that she did 



Letters to the Children. 18T 

not Invite admiration, and cared no more for the 
opinion of a flippant Greek than we do to - day" 
for that of a Fiji Islander." And yet Moses was 
said to have been learned in all the wisdom of the 
Egyptians; that was to be learned indeed. 

We hear a great deal of the advance made in 
science, arts, etc.; claims are made for this, that, 
and the other discovery, and all that; and lo! old 
Egypt seems to have known them over three thou- 
sand years ago. Take, for example, the science of 
chemistry. The perfection of this science is illus- 
trated by the preservation of human bodies — mum- 
mies. "And," says the same writer quoted above, 
" the successful embalming was not a chance discov- 
ery, or an art known by rule of thumb only, but 
that it was as fairly brought out from definitions and 
maxims as was any induction of Faraday." The- 
word chemistry comes from ckemi, and chemi means 
Egypt. 

Mr. Kendrick says : " The decorative borders 
found on Greek vases, and ascribed to the Greeks, 
were only copies from the Egyptian;" and they 
were found on the walls of a tomb before Greece- 
existed. 

The Egyptians had a considerable knowledge of 
manufactures also. They grew flax in abundance f 
and with it they wrought in the highest style. You 
know, when Joseph found favor with Pharaoh, it is 
said that he had the king's own ring put on his : 
finger, a gold chain around his neck, and a vesture- 
of fine linen to array his person. 

Some think a thing fine, others do not; hence the 1 



188 Letters to the Children. 

term itself carries no special weight. However, the 
linen of Egypt was celebrated all over the world; 
and what is more, writers tell us that it can be seen 
and handled to this day, and that nearly all the 
mummies were wrapped in it; also that the wrap- 
pings are in excellent preservation. I do not sup- 
pose the finest was used for that purpose. But in 
order to give you an idea of what was considered 
fine, I will tell you what I read, said to be taken 
from Pliny, who gives a clear idea of what was 
considered fine in the days of King Amasis — six 
hundred years before Christ. Amasis sent Lindus 
a garment every thread of which was composed of 
three hundred and sixty-five minor threads twisted 
together. That was fine — was n't it ? 

They also understood mechanics. "Where are 
there now any structures such as they built ? Ac- 
cording to Mr. Bunsen, the Great Pyramid meas- 
ured eighty -two million one thousand one hundred 
and eleven feet, and would weigh six million three 
hundred and sixteen thousand tons. He says also 
that the masonry was wonderful, the joints being 
scarcely perceptible — not wider than the thickness 
of silver-paper — the cement so tenacious that frag- 
ments of the casing-stone still remain in their orig- 
inal position. 

History informs us that during the reign of Menes 
there was a little dabbling in water- works. One of 
the principal branches of the Nile was turned out 
of its course to favor the building of Memphis — not 
.Memphis, Tenn., children, but Memphis in Egypt. 

The way they split stone may be of interest to 



Letters to the Children. 18£ 

many of you, too. They cut a small groove the 
whole length of the piece, and inserted dry wooden 
wedges — gluts, I believe, they are called now by 
wood-choppers. Then they poured water into the 
groove. The wedges would expand all at once, and 
with such force as to split the fragment away, as 
smoothly as a diamond cuts glass. 

They also understood geometry, no doubt; be- 
cause Joshua knew how to divide the Holy Land, 
after conquering it. It is on record that they made 
maps. 

They understood astronomy, watched the periods 
of planets and constellations, and calculated eclipses. 

The rotundity of the earth, the sun's place in the 
center of our system, the starry composition of the 
Milky Way, and the borrowed light of the moon, 
are thought by Mr. "Wilkinson to have been no 
secrets to them. 

There are a great many other things I could tell 
you, but can't do it now. I must give a few lines 
as to the geography of Egypt. It is a country in 
North-east Africa, and extends from the Mediter- 
ranean Sea to the first cataract of the Kile. It was 
called by some Kemi, or the Black Land, from the 
color of the soil. 

The great physical peculiarity of Egypt is the 
absence of rain, the land being watered by the an- 
nual overflow of the Nile. The climate is mild and 
healthy, especially south of the Delta. In the des- 
ert from Cairo to Alexandria the air is more moist 
than farther south. From the middle of August to 
December the wind blows from the west principally; 



190 Letters to the Children. 

from that time till March, from the east. The over- 
flow of the Nile reaches its height at the end of 
September. The decline is visible about the middle 
of October, and it subsides during the month of 
April. The crops are sown in November, and har- 
vested in March. 

The geology of Egypt is varied. Suffice it to say, 
hills and rocky mountains are numerous. Conse- 
quently, a great portion of its scenery is wild and 
rude, the granite rocks extending along the shore 
of the Red Sea nearly to the Gulf of Suez. 

Its natural history and productions are also in- 
teresting, but I cannot more than allude to them. 
One of the most wonderful animals is the hippo- 
potamus, or river-horse ; the giraffe, jackal, hyena, 
and one-humped camel are also found there. Among 
fowls, the pigeon and vulture abound. Among rep- 
tiles, the most famous is the crocodile. 

I cannot now write any thing like a satisfactory 
account of the Dead or Salt Sea ; but I will say this 
much — it is said to cover the valley where Sodom 
and Gomorrah once stood. Most interesting ac- 
counts have been given by travelers. One says a 
fresh egg will float in its water, two -thirds out; 
that is because of its briny strength. If you have 
„a book called " The Dead Sea and the Jordan," by 
Lynch, read it ; it will instruct and interest you. 

" He that is slow to wrath is of great understanding ; but lie that 
is hasty of spirit exalteth folly." 



Letters to the Children. 191 



LETTER XXXV. 

Deception — Working through — Going to protest — Following 
bad counsel — Miss Gaudaloupe — The circus — That whale — 
The theater — The dancing-school — The fisherman — The 
wreck. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— I have been thinking for 
a week or two that I would write you a letter 
•on deception. The thing is so common, and so 
adroitly practiced, that it would be well to have 
your minds directed to it. 

The primary meaning of the word deceive is to 
u take aside," to ensnare, to mislead the mind, to 
cause to err, to cause to believe what is false, or dis- 
believe what is true, to impose on, to delude. Second, 
to beguile, to cheat. That is what Mr. Webster, the 
great man who made the dictionary, says. 

Now, is it possible that any of my little friends 
are guilty of deception ? I have been a boy myself, 
and I must say that I am pretty well acquainted 
with every step of the road along which one up to 
my age has to travel. I do n't want to appear ego- 
tistical (look after that word before you read any 
farther), but I really think that I am a fair speci- 
men of human nature. 

In order to bring the subject directly before you, 
I will ask you a question. You need n't answer it if 



192 Letters to the Children. 

you do n't want to, but you must think about it. Did 
any of you ever make believe you were sick, when 
you wasn't, just to keep from doing something that 
mother or father wanted you to do, or to keep from 
going to school; and all because you had idled away 
your time, and didn't know your spelling, or geog- 
raphy, or multiplication-table? I hope you have 
not; but if you have, don't do so any more, be 
cause you have been a deceiver; and the oftener 
you repeat acts of deception, the worse it will be 
for you. The fact is, it does n't take a deceiver long 
to work through. Nobody that has misled others 
stands as well afterward. 

Acknowledgments may be made, sorrow ex- 
pressed, and so on, but whatever comes from that 
source is subject to a heavy discount. It is like a 
merchant's paper that has gone to protest — nobody 
wants to invest in it. And you have no idea how 
quick such news spreads. The winds seem to carry 
it round. I pity the poor fellow who suffers in that 
way. He may recover, but it is almost as uncertain, 
and equally as slow, as a bad case of typhoid fever. 

.You know Solomon says that in the multitude of 
counselors there is safety. Of course he meant good 
counselors. There can be no safety in bad ones. 

Young people, and old ones too, often have more 
bad counsel than good, and I am sorry to say the 
bad sometimes prevails. For example, Miss Gauda- 
loupe is invited to an evening entertainment. Her 
mother is a sensible woman and a Christian. She 
advises her daughter to dress plainly, but neatly, 
and the daughter promises to do so; but before 



Letters to the Children. 193 

night she meets with Mrs. , and the principal 

conversation is, of course, " the party." Mrs. 

wants to know what she is going to wear. " Mamma 
wants me to wear such a dress. She says I will 
look as well, and that I will he as much thought of 
in that as any other, and by those whose society is 

worth cultivating, more." "Now," says Mrs. , 

"don't you do any such thing. If I were you, I 
wouldn't go by any old fogy mother — I'd dress party 
style. I would not think of covering up those 
pretty arms, and that neck of yours. Not I. You 
let me fix you up." 

It is needless to say that that speech turns the 
youngster's head clear round. Her vanity and pride 
are both set on fire, and mother's counsel shrinks 

out of sight. Nothing will do now but Mrs. 

shall arrange her toilet. She does so, and behold! 
Miss G-audy is arrayed as a young lady " of the pe- 
riod." She listened to bad counsel, and ignored 
her mother's. Need I say that she did not respect 
her mother as she should have done? I will let 
you judge of that yourself. I pity the poor girl or 
boy that turns from the sincere counsels of a dear 
father or mother. Do n't you do it. 

There are so many things that are in themselves 
harmless, which are used by the enemies of virtue 
to inveigle unwary souls ! I might mention forty 
of them, but will only call your attention to a few. 
There is the circus, for one. Henry and Maria can't 
see any harm in going, especially if the advertise- 
ment says there is to be quite an exhibition of ani- 
mals ; and they are ready, too, to believe all the ad- 



194 Letters to the Children. 

vertisement says, no matter how ridiculous. Not 
long ago the showman, Barnum, came to Memphis, 
and such a parade, and such nourishing of trum- 
pets, you never heard. He marched his company 
through the streets. He had great painted cages, 
said to contain this and that animal, never seen be- 
fore out of its native jungle by the Nile. Another 
with a great whale painted on the outside, spouting 
water away up. And do n't you think there were 
people — not children, either — in this great city who 
actually believed that Barnum had a "very whale" 
in that cage? They forgot that it takes a sea to 
bold whales. The whole thing was a deception. 

Mary says : " Well, I would n't go to see and hear 
the vulgarisms of the thing at all. I just want to 
see the animals." 

I have heard that people who belong to the Meth- 
odist Church go sometimes, and when talked to 
about it, say : " Well, I saw the procession, and heard 
that there were so many natural curiosities, and as 
I never saw a whale, I thought I would go. To toll 
the truth, after I got there I felt sorter out of place, 
and was about to leave, when I happened to look 

round and saw Mr. A , of the Presbyterian 

Church. My conscience still worked, but I felt a 
little more excusable, and concluded to stay." 

Allow me to say that Church-members who do so 
step outside the lines, and are on forbidden ground. 
They lay themselves liable to be sneered at by 
worldly-minded people, as well as exposed to the 
infectious influence of a degraded and perverted 
taste. 



Letters to the Children. 195 

Then there is the dancing-school. A great many 
«ay that they can see no harm in dancing. " It is a 
good exercise, and besides, it learns folks to be grace- 
ful." Now, this I seriously doubt, for I have seen in 
my time young men who had been through, that 
did not know what to do with their hands and feet 
when in company. I have thought that they felt 
awkward, and if they did, they did not deceive their 
looks at all. The only thing that seemed to give 
any relief at all was their pocket handkerchief ; and 
dear me! how some of them do handle it! I feel for 
.such a fellow when he gets into company with truly 
refined ladies. To talk about learning grace at a 
dancing-school ! Pooh ! Bosh ! It is recorded that 
in the ancient times it was far from customary for 
ladies of distinction to dance in public; they con- 
sidered it indecent if they were so much as present 
at public entertainments. Queen Yashti thought it 
so dishonorable that, rather than submit to it, even 
when commanded by King Ahasuerus, she forfeited 
her crown. Turn to the first chapter of Esther, 
and read the twelfth verse. 

If you want to be naturally graceful, begin to 
practice at home around the fireside, when nobody 
is looking at you. Notice carefully the most refined 
ladies and gentlemen that come to visit your father 
and mother — take them as models. Did you ever 
watch the little kittens on the rug ? Who ever saw 
any thing to excel them in graceful motion ? What 
" Madame " or " Signior " was their teacher, think 
you? 

Next comes the theater, and how fascinating is 



196 Letters to the Children. 

the stage! Says one: "There can certainly be no 
harm in going with a well-behaved company " — se- 
lect, of course — "to hear actors recite; and then 
one learns so much about human nature — that is 
what I go for, principally." Indeed! but couldn't 
more of that be learned in every-day life ? Can you 
go amiss for examples — real, not imitated ? I ven- 
ture I can learn more human nature at my house 
any morning of the world than a whole theater 
company could represent in a week. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — Pa takes the Christian Advocate and the 
Western Methodist, and when the papers come, all want to read 
" Uncle Bob's Letters;" so while pa cuts and sews the Advo- 
cate, we get Uncle Peter to read your letters to us, and then 
we read them over again when we get a chance. You invite 
the children to write to you, and I had been thinking for a 
long time that I would do so, when, the other day, Uncle 
Peter said: "Solomon, why do you not write some letters to 
Uncle Bob ? You like to read his letters so well, and he de- 
sires the young folks to write to him." 

"O do, Solomon," said little Sis, "and tell him he must 
have a nice, long letter in the paper every week, and ask us 
hard questions — it is so funny hunting them up." But big 
Sis — that is Florence — said: "Now, Bud, don't you scribble 
any of your nonsense to Uncle Bob, and don't you address 
him as 'Dear Uncle' — it sounds too familiar. You should call 
him Mr. Kobert — what's his name." But Uncle Peter — ■ 
dropping his paper upon his knee, and looking over his specs 
— said: "Florence, you had better let Solomon write his own 
way, unless you have better advice to give him than that. 
Uncle Bob will not be offended, I am certain, at being called 
'Dear Uncle' by any of the children who love to read his let- 
ters." 

But what shall I write about, uncle? "Well," said he, "tell 
him about this country, or about the academy, the church, or 
the Sunday-school," etc. 



Letters to the Children. 197 

It is so late, and I'm so sleepy, that I must close now, but 
will try to tell you of our beautiful valley next week. 

Yours truly, Solomon Simple. 

Whatever others may say or think in regard to 
the things I have mentioned, matters not. I believe 
them to be dangerous, consequently they must be 
watched. Look sharp, my dear children, you will 
lose nothing by avoiding them altogether. 

I will illustrate. Once upon a time I was read- 
ing about fishing. It is said that when an experi- 
enced fisherman goes for bass, he chops up a good 
hunk of meat quite fine, and when the tide is right, 
he scatters it all over the face of the water. Pretty 
soon the fact that there is something good about is 
communicated. ~No one knows how, but it is done. 
The bass come up in shoals, and one after another 
swallows down the luscious morsels. They make 
the water fairly foam heating each other off. The 
old fisherman understands his business, and pres- 
ently he flings out some pieces with hooks in them, 
and lo ! Mr. Bass soon flounders on the shore. 

Now, the devil is a fisherman. He baits with 
things that you can see no harm in. You take to 
them eagerly. As soon as he sees you fairly com- 
mitted, he will fling out his hooks, and, like the bass, 
you will be seen floundering on the shore, among 
the putrefying carcasses which already line it. And 
men will pass you by and mournfully reflect upon 
the lines of the poet: 

I saw a wreck upon the ocean flood. 

How sad and desolate! No man was there: 
No living thing was on it. There it stood ; 

Its sails all gone; its masts were standing bare; 
. 9* 



198 Letters to the Children. 

Tossed in the wide, the boundless, howling sea. 

The very sea-birds screamed, and passed it by. 
And as I looked, the ocean seemed to be 

A sign and figure of eternity, 
The wreck an emblem seemed of those that sail 

Without the Pilot Jesus on its tide. 
Thus, thought I, when the storms prevail, 

Shall rope, and sail, and mast be scattered wide; 
And they, with helm and anchor lost, be driven, 
In endless exile sad, far from the port of heaven. 

" Lying lips are abomination to the Lord ; but they that deal truly 
are his delight." 



Letters to the Children. 199 



LETTER XXXVI. 

The rheumatism — All hands taking two jumps — Who beat — ■ 
A great laugh — A complete cure. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— One morning, not long 
ago, we had quite a time at our house. The 
classes at the school where one of our daughters at- 
tends were "being examined in the term studies. 
Daughter had found a book that did not treat of 
any of her lessons. She had spent too much of 
her time with it, and of course she was not well 
prepared for the examination, and did not want to 
go to school; so she came moping into our room, 
and told her mother right easy (I think she was 
rather suspicious of me by the way she acted) that 
she had the rheumatism " real bad." Now, says I to 
myself, I'll test that case directly, and we'll all have 
a little fun. Four little ones were scattered around 
before the fire, some putting on shoes, some lacing- 
them, and altogether making about as much ado as 
a gang of blackbirds. I began to ask some ques- 
tions away off yonder. Finally, says I, " See here, 
children, did you ever try who could jump the 
farthest?" All hands said, "No, sir." "Well," 
says I, "who can beat now for five cents?" In less 



200 Letters to the Children. 

time than it takes me to tell, all were on their feet 
saying, "I," "I," "I." So I cleared the way right 
on the spot ; dressing was suspended. I fixed the 
place for their heels, which was the outer edge of 
the rug, before the fire. "Now," says I, "each one 
is to have two jumps." They did their best. I 
marked the distance made, and then jumped my- 
self. Now, who do you think beat? Why, the 
rheumatic! I couldn't hold any longer; I had to 
laugh outright. I had made a point, and they all 
saw it; the rheumatism was cured. I haven't 
heard of it since. Whoever heard of jumping be- 
ing good for that complaint before? 

But, say you, didn't you whip the child for tell- 
ing the "story"? Not with a switch, although I 
think it would have been a relief to her, if I had, 
as I told her that I was going to write to you all 
about it. You see I have found out that there are 
more, and ofttimes better, ways to whip folks than 
with switches. Physical force is a poor thing to 
govern appreciative intelligence. That will do for 
those who cannot be corrected any other way, and 
there are many such. I think the switch is often 
used when the balance of power is in the wrong 
hand. The disposition of children ought to be 
studied more than it is. How to do in every case 
is often a vexing question, and unless one calls into 
play the upper part of the brain forces, ruinous 
blunders will be made. I think that is a subject 
for prayer, specially. No one can afford to raise 
children without drawing heavily from above. Many 
neglect this, and are ever at their wits' end. They 



Letters to the Children. 201 

are like some doctors who, "for the sake of science," 
so called, will experiment with a sick man beyond 
their knowledge. Now, I say you mustn't go 
ahead until you have the best of reasons for believ- 
ing that you are right. But, say you, all this talk 
aint for us children. Well, be it so. Ask your 
father and mother to read it for you — you " sWp." 

" Charity suffereth long, and is kind." 
9* 



202 Letters to the Children. 



LETTER XXXVII. 

Didn't want to go to school — Long division — Couldn't see 
through it — Got the better of it — Rhubarb and jalap — Sick 
sure enough. 

DEAR CHILDREN:— A few weeks ago I asked 
you if you ever feigned sickness to keep from 
school. As no one has pleaded guilty so far, I will 
do so myself. 

You see, when I was a boy, I was a boy all over. 
I cut more figures than a little. It seemed to me 
that it was easier for me to get into a difficulty than 
it was to get out, and yet I never would stay out. 
If I avoided one, I was sure to get into another. I 
have already told you of several, but here's another: 
I did n't want to go to school. I think I was just en- 
tering long division. Somehow I couldn't see just 
through it the first day; that discouraged me; how- 
ever, I went again, but harder still it seemed. I 
didn't know how to " bring down," or how many 
to bring, either; I didn't know what to do with 
what was over; and it seemed to me that I never 
would learn long division. I thought I would rather 
stay at home and burn brush. I used to think that 
was hard, but it was n't anywhere along side of di- 
vision. I wished the man who made the arithmetic 



Letters to the Children. 203 

had had something else to do. It seemed to me 
that he just tried how he could worry us boys. If 
that had been his idea, I think he would have been 
perfectly satisfied if he had seen me. I made out I 
was " awful" sick. I coughed the best I could, and 
tried to look like a calf, and in that I made a per- 
fect success. I could see just as plain as could be 
that mother saw through the whole thing; but 
rather than acknowledge like a man, as I should 
have done, I concluded to stand to it and take the~ 
consequences. Just like everybody else that lies — 
ready to tell any number in order to cover the firsts 
Mother said: ""Well, my young man, if you are 
sick, I intend to give you a dose of medicine." That 
made me quiver a little. I do n't suppose there eveF 
was a boy that hated to take medicine worse than I 
did. I said : " I am sick, but not bad enough off 
for that." I didn't know but that I would be well 
by dinner-time. I usually got better about that 
time. But all was of no avail. The old rhubarb 
and something else — I think " they" called it jalap — 
was hauled out, and about a half tea-cup full was 
mixed up and handed to me to swallow. I don't 
think if mother had tried that she could have hit 
on any thing I disliked as much. I began to real- 
ize the force of that passage of scripture whicb 
says : " The way of the transgressor is hard." There- 
was nothing left for me to do but either make con<- 
fession or take the dose. I chose the latter; but,- 
dear me ! did n't I pay for it, though ? I could smell 
and taste the stuff ever so long; and besides, it made- 
me sick sure enough. I haven't had any use for 



204 Letters to the Children. 

rhubarb since. I was for a long time prejudiced 
against rhubarb pies, having never seen or tasted 
any, and having knowledge of only one kind of 
rhubarb. Notwithstanding, I was like some people 
are now: I thought what I did not know wasn't 
worth knowing. I never experimented that way 
any more, I assure you. I took up the line of 
inarch to school, and although I twisted and turned 
on the bench many a time, and would go to the 
bucket for water oftener than I wanted any, and so 
on, yet I got the better of long division ; and what 
is more, I have never forgotten it, and do n't expect 
to forget it. 

Now, boys, if you ever get into such a scrape as 
that, don't do like I did. Acknowledge at once. 
Matters will be adjusted quicker and more satisfac- 
torily. Besides, you will weaken the force of the 
temptation, and, perhaps, the next time resist alto- 
gether. Then you '11 feel so good ! I tell you, after 
all is said and done, there is no feeling so pleasant 
in this life as the consciousness of having done right. 
It enables you to hold up your head, and to look 
people straight in the eye. It makes you feel that 
you have rights, and that others are bound to re- 
spect them. I tell you, if you want to stand firm, 
integrity must be the corner-stone of your character. 

I have received several letters since last week. 
Solomon is on hand again, as you will see. " Louise 
Linwood," of Holly Springs, Miss., writes that she 
began to read the Testament and Psalms Jan. 11, 
and finished March 1. She asks me two questions. 
One of them is serious and important. When I 



Letters to the Children. 205 

begin my next series I will answer her. Eugenia 
Blair, of Tupelo, Lee county, Miss., writes a nice 
letter about Johnny and herself saving their nickels 
for missions, and as our Church is a missionary 
Church, and as I want you all to become interested 
in that work, I will publish her letter. Read it, and 
then begin to do likewise. Then little Mollie Gore, 
from or near Pittsboro, Miss., sent "that new baby" 
a nickel. Brother Bounds says Miss Mollie is only 
four years old, and would not rest until he promised 
her to send it. That nickel will be put where it 
will grow. 

Dear Uxcle Bob: — We live in a grove of oak, hickory, and 
elm-trees, and there are so many grape-vines about us that 
the name of Viney has been given to the village. It is nearly 
in the center of a beautiful valley, almost circular, and about 
ten miles across it, and surrounded by mountains. It is 
watered by numerous clear mountain streams, that unite and 
form the Illinois River, which flows first westward and then 
southward, through the Indian Territory, until it unites its 
waters with the great Arkansas River. Although the valley 
is well wooded, it is dotted with small, park-like prairies, and 
being "famous for good water, rich soil, and health, is being 
rapidly settled up, though we arfe about one hundred miles 
from a railroad. 

As we are on the summit of the Ozark range, the moun- 
tains around us are really mountains on the top of mountains, 
yet they are not tall enough to be covered with perpetual 
snow; and as their outlines are all soft and wavy, they cannot 
rival in grandeur the Alps or the Rocky Mountains. Cousin 
Celestia Ann, who is the poetess of the Simple family, says 
this valley looks as if it had been the camp of the giants, and 
the mountains were the bulwarks they had thrown up around 
their grand encampment. They are densely wooded, and on 
their very summits are found such trees as the black walnut 
10 



206 Letters tg the Children. 

<and black locust ; and a ridge south of this was named from 
tfche quantity of cane which grew upon it. Pa says that from 
.one of these mountains he saw the Boston Mountain to tho 
.south, and toward the north-west a blue range away off in tho 
Indian Territory, west of Benton county. 

Uncle Peter says that Brother Johnson can tell you some- 
thing about the apples that grow in this region, as he tasted 
.enough to know their quality. He also thinks that the large 
baskets full of Shannon pippins brought into the Conference- 
room kept the preachers' jaws so busy that they could not 
.find time to make long speeches. Solomon Simple. 

" Let your moderation be known unto aU men. The Lord is at 
&and." 



Letters to the Children. 207 



LETTER XXXVIII. 

Pride — Tight lacing — Shoes a mile too big — The doctor sent 
for — The pint bottle — Beef -gall — Going to Florida — She 
dies — The obituary notice. 

DEAR CHILDREN: — The "Book" says: 
" Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty 
spirit before a fall." 

I reckon that pride has been the cause of as much 
trouble as any thing in the world. To gratify it, 
people will subject themselves to almost any thing*, 
e. g. (find out what e. g. means), a young lady will, 
in order to have what is called a " wasp-waist," 
cram herself into corsets two or three times too 
small, and then lace until she can hardly breathe. 
She will squeeze her feet into shoes always " a mile 
too big," and wear them until her feet are deformed, 
and so diseased that no shoe-maker can make any 
thing that she can wear. She will array herself in 
a low-neck gauze dress and silk slippers, to attend 
a party in the dead of winter, and dance so dressed 
until morning; then, with blood at fever-heat, she 
will rush into another and a much colder atmos- 
phere, without extra covering. These things are 
practiced for a time, it may be, without any very 



208 Letters to the Children. 

decided inconvenience; but after awhile the mis- 
chief begins to develop. A little flush is on the 
cheek ; a hacking cough becomes troublesome, es- 
pecially at night ; low spirits, or, as some call them, 
"the blues," are frequent, with loss of appetite; 
nothing agrees with her. She feels terrible, but 
doesn't know what is the matter. She grows 
worse daily. Finally, a doctor is sent for. He 
sounds the chest, looks at the tongue, feels the 
pulse, and says : " I find that your liver is disor- 
dered, and your heart is in sympathy with it. I do 
not think there is any organic disease of the heart, 
but there is some functional. You will have to be 
very careful. You must not walk up steps more 
than you can help ; keep away from excitements as 
much as possible; avoid all excesses of heat and 
cold; keep your feet dry and comfortable; go to 
bed early ; do n't wear your clothing tight, because 
your liver, and lungs, and heart are feeble, and any 
extra effort they have to make will increase your 
troubles." He then writes a prescription, which is 
sent to the apothecary. Pretty soon the messenger 
returns with a pint bottle, labeled, " Take a wine- 
glass full three times a day." This treatment is 
observed for a few days, or until some old aunty 
comes in. She knows all about the case ; many a 
one has come under her eye. She has seen folks 
" nothing but skin and bones " who were cured by 
her remedy. And what do you think she recom- 
mends? Why, beef-gall and pulverized chicken- 
gizzard ! The poor invalid is willing to try any 
thing. The gall and gizzard are procured and used; 



Letters to the Children. 209 

but there is no relief. The newspapers are ran- 
sacked for remedies. Dr. this and that one has 
made a wonderful discovery ; a complete and cor- 
rect description of every symptom of the disease is 
given. Hope immediately lights up the pale and 
sad countenance, and the invalid fancies that that 
man's medicine will cure her. Five dollars is sent 
for six bottles. The base of the stuff being whisky, 
it of course acts as an artificial stimulant at first. 
The poor sick one thinks she is better, and so reports; 
but reaction soon sets in, and what was thought 
to have been reinstated strength was only a goad 
to the almost worn-out functions. The whole round 
of pateat medicines is made, and yet there is no 
improvement. Finally, a trip to Florida is advised; 
hundreds of dollars are furnished, and to Florida 
she goes. The climate is charming, the fruits are 
delicious ; but these things bring no relief — all is to 
no purpose. In a few days the mail or the tele- 
graphic flash informs her friends that she is dead. 
Her remains are brought home and buried. Some 
friend, or perhaps her pastor, writes an obituary, 
and characterizes her death as untimely and a mys- 
terious dispensation of providence. Now, what are 
the facts in her case? She violated the laws of 
health from the beginning. The first time she laced 
her body under natural size she laid the foundation 
for the liver and heart trouble. It was impossible 
for those organs to perform their functions under 
the circumstances. When she danced all night, and 
then, half-dressed, exposed herself in the open air, 

the root of consumption was planted. Her own 
10* 



210 Letters to the Children. 

imprudence and excesses brought her troubles upon 
her ; and were I asked to write an epitaph, I would 
write this — The Suicide. All the providence that 
was in the matter simply vindicated the established 
law of God, which teaches that the punishment 
follows close upon the heels of the transgression. 
This is what I want to impress upon your minds. 
If you keep unseasonable hours, and are intemper- 
ate in your eating, drinking, and dress, you will 
have to suffer to the full extent of such indulgence. 
You had better deny yourself for the time, if need 
be. Above all things, be natural ; make no at- 
tempts to improve nature — you can't do it; your 
failure will be miserable, and will end to your seri- 
ous disadvantage. Remember that God will hold 
you to account for your bodies as well as your souls. 
How many nice letters I do get ! I would like to 
publish them all, but cannot. Sometimes I am at a 
loss to decide which to leave out ; but I am free to 
say that those who write about making efforts to 
be useful and become Christians have attracted my 
attention most. 

' My dear Uncle Bob: — I have not written to you for some 
time; but I have been a constant reader of the Western Meth- 
odist, and I am always delighted to receive a new paper. The 
first thing I look at is my dear Uncle Bob's " Letters to the 
Children;" and as I am a little girl, or rather a child, I 
always think that your interesting letters are written to me. 
You spoke of having your letters published, with your like- 
ness, and wished to know if we would commence saving eggs. 
Please let me know when it will be ready, and the eggs will 
be forthcoming. My parents have a large number of poultry 
— about forty Guinea-chickens — and if we can find their nests, 



Letters to the Children. 211 

it will not take long to pay for your book. I must try and get 
my papa to block his hounds, to prevent them from getting 
the eggs. My papa is a fox-hunter, and loves his dogs, and if 
he will block them, I promise to cook the bread to feed the 
dogs with, so I can get the eggs. He is a very kind papa, and 
I do not doubt but what he will gratify me that much. I am 
reading my Testament. I read it every night before retiring 
to bed ; and I am like yourself — I always find something new. 
I try to live the life of a Christian, and I always try to do 
right, so that I may have a conscience void of offense toward 
my parents, and brothers and sisters, and my friends, and, 
above all, a clear conscience toward my Heavenly Father, so 
that when I leave this world I may go to my home in heaven. 
Dear Uncle Bob, pray that I may hold out faithful to the end; 
and if you and I should not meet in this world, I hope to see 
you in heaven, and there form your acquaintance, and enjoy 
your company there, where friends never part. I can assure 
you that your very welcome letters have done me great good, 
and by all means continue them. Good-bye, my dear uncle. 
I remain, yours truly, , Jennie. 

Uncle Bob: — I feel desirous to let you know how much 
delighted I am with your letters in the Western Methodist. I 
laugh heartily over many things you tell us ; and there is 
much you say that is calculated to make us think seriously — 
those things you tell us we must do in order to be saved from 
our sins here, that we may have a bright home in heaven. 
Owing to the high water, last week, we did not get the Meth- 
odist I was sorry to have to wait so long for it. 

Our pastor, Brother Honnoll, comes to see us sometimes. 
He is a good man, and I enjoy his visits. All his people, I 
believe, are greatly pleased with him. He notices and talks 
to the children ; that will make them love him, and try to be 
good, as he wants them to be. I am not a Christian, but I 
desire to be one. Give my love to the orphans ; being one 
myself, I know how to sympathize with them. The Lord is 
good to me, in providing me a home with a family that love 
me and treat me kindly. 



212 Letters to the Children. 

Uncle Bob, I am learning to cook, and I would be giad if 
you would tell me how to make the " cherry pone;" for I may 
wish to make one, like your mother used to make for you. 

The children in Byhalia and vicinity, I have no doubt, 
would give you a warm welcome, if you would visit them 
some time this year. Your little friend, 

Martha Cornelius. 

Dear Uncle Bob: — Did you know you had a loving little 
nephew and niece in this new county of Lee ? I am seven, 
and brother Johnny is five. We love dearly for mamma to 
read your kind, welcome letters to us, and beg you to con- 
tinue them for ever so many years. Would n't we all be good 
children, if we followed always your kind counsel. 

We wish we could see your little girls and boys (Johnny 
wants to know how many you have), and know they must be 
capital play-fellows. Give love to them all round, and please 
promise to bring them down to see us next vacation. 

We have heard about the poor heathen children, and have 
felt so sorry for them that we have saved our nickels, and now 
send you $1.50 missionary money, hoping that through it one 
little heathen boy or girl may learn of our blessed Jesus and 
beautiful heaven. 

If all the children who read your letters would save their 
nickels and little earnings, and send to you, or good Dr. 
McFerrin, it would not be long before Bibles would greatly 
increase in heathen lands. We hope to send you more money 
soon. 

Well, I am afraid I have written more than you will have 
the time or inclination to read, and so won't care for me to 
write again. 

Please let me hear if you received our money safely. 

Your loving little friend, Eugenia Blair, 

Tupelo, Lee county, Miss. 

Dear Uncle Bob : — Brother JefTy is a subscriber to the West- 
ern Methodist, and has been for a long time. The papers with 
your letters reach us in time to read on Sundays. I always 



Lmitts to the Children. 213 

try to be the first to read your paper, and letters to the 
young folks, and generally succeed. Some of our family try 
to get hold of it first, but I always put them off by getting 
some other paper not as interesting as your Letters. You 
say you are going to have your Letters put in book-form, 
which would be so nice and interesting for the young. Now, 
I would just ask every parent to buy one of Uncle Bob's 
" Book of Letters," when he has issued it. I think I shall be 
the first to buy one in our little town. Thos. J. Hicks. 

Mr dear Uncle Bob : — We take several papers. The West- 
ern Methodist has always been the favorite with us all. Your 
letters to us children are very interesting. In fact, we chil- 
dren prize your column more highly than any other part of 
the paper. Locker Wood. 

Dear Uncle Bob : — We love the Methodist dearly ; and since 
I have an Uncle Bob to write to me, it is dearer than ever 
— glad to have another word given us. Your niece, 

Mollie Jones. 

Martha wants me to tell her how to make " cherry 
pone." First, get the cherries ; second, seed them, 
and stew about ten minutes, stirring in a little sugar 
to suit the taste. Set them by in a clean dish or 
bowl ; then stir your meal-dough, and let it lighten. 
When ready for baking, prepare your old Dutch 
oven; clean it thoroughly; grease it with a little 
lard or a bacon-rind. Then mix your cherries and 
dough well together, and bake until done. Turn it 
out whole, in the biggest dish you 've got, right in 
the middle of the table. Take the morning's milk, 
without skimming ; pour it in a white pitcher ; set 
the chairs to the table, and ring the bell. Then I 
would like to be with you. 

As the " midshipman " has offered a prize for the 



214 Letters to the Children. 

best essay, I reckon you will want to contend for it, 
and of course will have no time to read letters from 
me until after you get through with that ; and as I 
will be busy preparing for my book, getting up 
those things you will not see until it is ready, I 
have concluded to discontinue writing through the 
paper until after the General Conference. I expect 
to visit the Mammoth Cave, and other places, before 
I write again. Then look out. 

''As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman which is 
without discretion." 



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